


Anemoia

by TwilightsDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Death is not kind, End of the World, F/F, Harry Needs a Hug, Harry sees dead people, M/M, Magic and Science, Master of Death Harry Potter, Middle Ages, Necromancy, Seer Luna Lovegood, The Fates - Freeform, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Tom Riddle is a Little Shit, Underworld, Walking and lots of it, World Travel, World of Ruin, Worldbuilding, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightsDawn/pseuds/TwilightsDawn
Summary: Anemoia- longing or nostalgia for something that one has never known.Harry never asked to be marked by the Grim; the dark entity won’t let him be no matter where he runs, just like the Order of the Phoenix that thinks him a god-like entity that will bring an end to the world. Between them and the Death Eaters tearing up his homeland it seems he can’t trust anyone and nowhere is safe. No the power he has locked into the scar that is borne upon his face has to stay there for everyone’s own good including his own. Death has always been a constant companion. It makes sense in a twisted way that he would fall in love with a necromancer named Tom of all things.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this work. 
> 
> While they are not the central focus, there will be some darker things that I think readers should be warned about. Death and other elements of communicating with the dead and bringing of the dead back may contain a bit bloody/ goreish scenes. There are also elements of child abuse, and traumatic things happening to children, hence the mature rating for this fic. 
> 
> Thank You, and on with the work.

The house creaks as the wind picks up outside the small country home. The little boy pulls the covers up closer to his chin. The sound seems persistent and like footsteps. Hedwig hoots from her place up in the corner of the room her yellow eyes glowing sharply in the dark with the candle that is lit. He reaches out to her and she lowers herself gently to the bed, her beak nibbling lightly against his fingers as he strokes at her neck. He feels safer with her closer. It gives him enough courage to slip from his bed. He squints against the dark into the hall. All the doors are still closed, and there is no sign of his parents in the living space below him so he shuts his door again and shuffles back to his window ledge convinced that it must have been his imagination. 

He settles himself into the small corner and looks out at the night sky. Hedwig follows from her place on the headboard. The great lights in the sky glow past the clouds. Stars mixing with the colors of green and blue streaks. He has seen them only a few times before. They rarely grace the mountain tops, usually only in the earliest of springs and the longest of winter nights. It's summer and he can’t believe his luck. His mother if she were awake would tell him to give thanks as they are magical lights. They are beautiful and important to people like them. People that followed the old ways of magic, those kinds that are long forgotten. She said that if one was to follow them they could meet with some of the spirits of old and if they asked nicely they could be granted a wish.

The night is dark and it is cold, but he thinks he sees a deer moving across their fields, the large buck has horns that glisten against the moonlight. There is a small bird that rests upon the prongs on his head. Harry has seen it out there before with that very same bird. They move as one through the fading light as the moon hides again and they would most likely disappear into the darkness of the forests. However, on this night they stop at the edge of the lawn. 

The bird flutters upward and transforms into a woman with fiery red hair, the longer feathers transforming back into her dress. His mother. She bows to the deer and he bows back before transforming into a man that Harry knows as well. His father. He rushes out to greet them, forgetting he should be asleep and in bed, as he has never seen them perform such magic before. 

They both are startled the second that he reaches them, his mother however embraces him. 

“Harry you should be in bed.” She tuts after she lets him go. 

“I saw you walking in the moonlight, under the sacred lights.” He excitedly tells them hoping that they will tell him more.

His mother looks to his father, who smiles then. “Did you now?” 

“Yes.” Harry says excitedly. “Did you see any of the great forest spirits?”

“No.” His father pats him on the head but it does little to curb Harry’s need to bounce. “But we were communing with them.”

“Yes.” His mother moves closer to pick him up. “But it is nearing the waking hours and we must all rest now.” 

“Will I be able to qu-mmune with them?” Harry tries to repeat the word that his father had said. 

“When you are older.” His father assures him. “It is not easy magic to learn. Your Godfather Sirius and one of the noble sorcerers are the only others that I know of that have completed the training.”

“But if I practice I can learn it.” Harry rubs at his eyes and lets out a small yawn that he tries to stifle. 

“Yes, of course, dear.” His mother whispers into his hair as she kisses him on the head. “But you must never tell anyone that you are learning such things or that your parents are practicing them.” 

“Why?” Harry doesn’t understand how such a thing could possibly be wrong. 

“I will tell you when you are older.” His mother sighs deeply. “For now, you must keep it our little secret alright? Can you do that for me, Harry?”

“Yes, I am the best secret keeper.” Harry nodded enthusiastically. 

~/*\~

The summer passes quickly, it's a hot one and Harry helps his mother with the gathering of herbs and his father with some of the weeding of the fields. He can not push the plow or pull it, like his father can. But he knows that one day he will be able to. He is now 5 years old and he has started to show accidental magical signs which is promising if he wants to be like them when he is older. He wonders what animal that he will be a Stag like his father would be amazing, he would like to run fast like the few that he has seen prance in the woods. They were fast, swift, and powerful. He wouldn’t have minded a Cardinal like his mother, a red bird that was like fire. 

It is another beautiful moon and his father and mother are out paying respect to the woodlands they live near. Giving the spirits their offerings and communing with them as one with the forests. Harry waits patiently by the barn for them to come over the hill and towards home he should be asleep but he can’t help but want to see the beautiful transformations happen again. 

He waits and he waits but there is nothing. Suddenly there is a flash, and there is a bright light that strikes from the fields it goes up and up and then down quickly where it ignites the field that is awaiting the blessings to be harvested. They start to burn and he can see a deer charging over the hill, with people in cloaks chasing it. The small bird is rocketing for the trees, a larger bird chasing after it. 

His parents are in danger! He crouches behind the large haystacks, the only weapons on the farm are in the small shed that his father has further out. But even if he were able to get there he has no training with his father's sword, and his small practice one is nothing that can harm those that are trained and a lot bigger than him. 

Hedwig lets out a loud screech. 

Harry tries to quiet her as he doesn’t want whoever is out there to turn their attention towards them especially with the way there are a few men moving towards the farmhouse. One stops turning his attention towards him and Harry nearly stops breathing. 

Hedwig takes off quickly from her place above him and there is a quick whooshing sound that whizzes past Harry’s ear and then another and the snow owl, his mother’s familiar is sent hurling towards the ground where she does not so much as twitch. 

Harry covers his mouth as he doesn’t want to let out even the faintest of sounds as the man that has slain the bird gets closer to pick her up. He has a mask with etchings on it, dark, and skeletal like. His feet crunch against the grass and dead leaves. His attention is diverted from where Harry is hiding by one of the other robed individuals. 

“Come Abraxas, there is more to do.” A whispering low voice says.

“There are footprints here.” The man that must have been Abraxas says. 

“They’re probably from their nephew, the Muggles said that they didn’t have any children, besides they're are old.” 

Abraxas pauses only a moment more before standing and making his way towards the others, some seemed to have been searching the house. They leave with small books and a few of his mother’s crystals. 

More lights are created and drawn and fired from bows into the house. His home slowly starts to go up in flame. He moves slowly and as quietly as he can towards the marshes and the tree line. It is the safest place away from the fields. His parents would find him there. The spirits would keep him safe. 

“Hey!” He hears someone call out and he bolts, runs, as fast as his small legs will carry him. He runs for the woods, he runs to the trees, sprinting and praying that he can lose the pursuer on the long-forgotten paths. The figure easily starts to gain on him even with the branches that cut into him, and he is not able to traverse the thickets, as well as Harry, is. He runs for the base of the mountain. It is there he knows one of the spirits frequented. 

Harry stumbles and his feet slide down the slope, he feels hands reach for him and he struggles free falling hard onto the rocks below him. His head is pounding and he lays still hearing the crunch of gravel give as the man that has chased him shimmies down the rock. He's trapped and he has nowhere to run or go. His head is burning and so he shuts his eyes and he holds his breath praying that he will make it out of this alive. 

He is turned over and he doesn’t move and is as still as possible. He feels hands shake him and he stays limp and he continues to hold his breath as best that he can. Slowly hands release him and drop him back to the hard rocks and there is the sound of unsteady footsteps and he feels bits of dirt and rock hit his face as he is left there to bleed.


	2. The Grim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's Mark gets him into trouble.

_The fields are burning. A large buck charges through the roaring flames as there are men shooting at it, and trying to cut it off. They heard it towards others that are waiting for it. The small bird dips and dives to avoid the talons of a much larger bird. The rocks are slick and he falls. Falls downward into darkness. It is ever sinking and all-encompassing. It pulls at him from all sides ripping at him. He is laying there and a creature comes to him. Their paws are large and he can hear the clicking of their nails._

_~Such a waste of life. Tell me, child, is it your wish to pass on from this life? I can grant your wish.~ Hot sticky breath is by his ear. It is dark, he can see the way that the black fur twists and twirls around such a creature. It is not from this world, it has that feeling of the dead, only stronger. Malicious as the smile that is upon such a creatures face._

_He chokes out a small groan. He is bleeding. Does the great spirit not know?_

_~ I can hear your heart beating, rushing, thumping with the blood of life. But life is leaving you isn’t she? Such a fleeting, fickle love is hers. Mine is eternal I think that you would find. Why cling to light when the dark is all around you and light always fades?~ The thing hums as if it finds his suffering to be of little consequence. Moving him with its nose._

_‘Help… spirits…please…’ He manages to think, pray rather to it silently as he had been taught._

_~So it was you that came towards my mountains praying to be saved. It has been so long since someone willingly came to me, with no wish to hurt another, no wish to use my gifts for the dark. I can grant that wish then and my strength.~ There is a sudden pain in his head, and he screams as it feels like the creature is biting down hard upon his skull. ~You shall be my little champion, brave little soul.~_

Harry bolts up in bed and smacks his head on the ceiling of the barn loft. The faint memories of the night his parents died still etched into his eyelids as he blinks to adjust to the morning sunlight. His scar burns and bleeds slightly against his hand. He wipes at it with his sleeve. He should have been used to the loft. The hay has been his bed for a while, but it is not as nice as the bed he had when he was little. He does not complain, at least not out loud. He knows why his Aunt and Uncle shut him up here. They do not like the mark upon his face, they do not like his parents, and they certainly envy that he has a little bit of magic that trickles out of him when he is particularly emotional. 

He gets dressed to start the day, climbing down the ladder, picking up his bow, and heading out towards the meadows. He knows that he will have to catch something if he wants to eat today. His ‘family’ if he can even really call them that are in town no doubt by now to hear the message of the Lord of Light and they would not be back till the late afternoon. It leaves him to tend the fields and to run the home when they are away. It's better when they aren’t around anyway. 

Harry knows that there is no such thing as the generous god they go to hear about. He trusts his mother’s and father's words over the Sects. They all could worship it till they were blue in the face and Harry would still meet them where the world ended in his dreams, where wandering dead fled to. 

Harry will take the woods and farm and stay there if it keeps him from the townsfolk. They were superstitious and just as malicious as the monsters they insisted dwelled in the trees he frequented. Still, even with the preference, he has known little in this world but the feeling of dread. It follows him regardless of the places that he travels or trails, no matter the footpath he takes he can sense it. It lingers in the air like a thick cloud that chokes him and keeps picking at his already served nerves. It’s not that he chose this life, it had just swooped in one day and picked him up. He had been five he had not meant to ask such a thing for a favor. But It had cared little for what Harry had wanted for upon his brow lay the scar, a symbol that’s carved so elegantly by tragedy and fate in the perfect shape of a lightning bolt. Death had marked him that day. That’s what the large religious group that was centered in his town seemed to think. They called it the Grim. The grim marked you when you should have died by something, the dog would bite the victim and leave its curse. It was not only an omen that the person wearing it would be dead soon but also a misfortune to those that were around it. 

Now Harry did not believe that it should be called the Grim. He doesn't know what it should be referred to as, but the thing he sees in his dreams is not a dog. It's too large, its paws too huge. The teeth are snarled in a smile but they are not canine. No, the only dog he knows is the stray that keeps him company in the barn, Padfoot. His wonderful faithful companion and only friend. 

The thing that he knows of is not claiming him, Death, Demon, or Spirit be damned. He knows that it's just buying its time for when it will have use of him. He knows because the words from his dreams that he will always remember had chosen him and that it later would have a purpose for its supposed warrior. 

Even if it torments him so, Harry doubts that he will listen to such a monstrous creature when it comes to call in the favor. It may have not cursed him with death but it certainly had given him the sight for it. Harry quite plainly could see the dead, see the spirits as more than the great lights in the sky, or feel their powerful presence in the woods. No, he could see the disgusting rotting faces of ghosts and the splintered remains of human souls and animal ones that had been left to wander the earth. He can feel death literally in the air. Harry can hear them and even if he ignores them, they will still come up to spook him. They will try to talk to him or hiss at him. They will get into his face and pass through him sending waves of cold. That is what this mark has brought him. Not that many will believe him. He is not half dead as some of the children would rumor him to be. He is just a boy, a teenager that had made a bad deal unknowingly. 

The sun creeps through the branches of the forests as Harry slings his bow off of his shoulder, there is a pheasant bobbing its head and it would make a pretty good meal for himself and Padfoot. He pulls back the string and swiftly releases. The bird turns but doesn’t even so much as get to flap its wings before it lays on the ground. Padfoot rushes forward to retrieve it for him, arrow, and all. 

After he has prepared the meat he eats, keeping the longer feathers for use. There are horses up on the dirt road. He can hear the faint voices of men shouting at one another to halt. He wipes his fingers on his dirty pant legs. Godric’s army or at least some members of it. He can just make out the lions on their banners if he squints. 

“What do those assholes want?” He asks Padfoot who whines as a response. “Nothing good can come of it.” He mutters to himself. 

The line of Godric had endured over the centuries and his great, great, great, grandson had taken the throne recently. Harry knew nothing of him other than he was according to the hushed rumors a pritz. He had been stirring up trouble with the neighboring kingdoms. War was perhaps coming and war needed soldiers. Those that were ready to give up their lives for glory and all that. Honor, what had it bought any of the men he has seen in uniforms wandering by the swamps? Decapitation, several stab wounds, and a rotting bloated face, that was all that was left of those supposed great men. 

Harry likes to think that one should pick battles wisely. He can handle himself well enough when he gets into a scrap with his much bigger cousin, but it is not like he goes about poking the sleeping lion. Sometimes a person had to fight, and when they fought there was nothing honorable about it. One had to do what they needed to in order to get out from a chokehold or under another. He can’t imagine battle being any different. He is honest as he needs to be, and he follows the laws at least the just ones. There is nothing else to being a decent person really. 

They seem to be looking for a good way to approach the farmhouse, the more he watches them. Yes, he has a really awful feeling about this.

“Padfoot you better stay here,” Harry warns forking over the rest of the bird. “Hide in the barn if you need to.” 

He knows that some people had it out for the poor dog. Being completely black and away from any nameable churches he couldn’t help but be mistaken as the Grim. Padfoot, the ever so loyal dog, laid down into the taller grass of the field and Harry headed towards the house. He could tell that he wanted to follow. 

There was some sort of town organizer in front of his home with a few scrolls tucked under his arm. The older man stood with a man that was in light armor that had long blond hair that reached well over his shoulder plates. His gray eyes met Harry’s as he moved closer to them. 

“Can I help you?” He asks politely as he is able. 

While the town organizer looks fine with his clothing, he can tell that the soldier doesn’t particularly like it. He must have been a noble or someone that figured they were better than presents. Harry knew he was going to like this conversation already. 

“Is this the Dursley residence?” The elderly man asks and he fumbles with his papers. 

“It is.” Harry nods once and waits for them to spill why they were there. 

“As you well know the southern border of the nation has been attacked, we are in preparation for war.” The town organizer fixes his glasses. “All families in the Western Territory have been asked to supply a young working family member or payment in order to help fund the efforts.”

No, he hadn’t known, it must have slipped his dear uncle’s mind when he went conveniently to town. 

“I haven’t heard of anything, but word travels slowly here. I guess you are looking for the latest of your recruits as we hardly have enough to pay the taxes.” Harry carefully adjusts his bow. 

He knows well enough that it will not do him any good to seem threatening but if he looks nervous and weaker because of his glasses there is a chance that they will not want him. Though he doubts that if they took his larger cousin that they would get anything out of him other than a cushion for arrows. 

“Yes, we're looking for Harrison Dursley, born August 31st, under a waxing moon.” 

Well if that wasn’t just perfect...

“There is no one that lives here by that name,” Harry says plainly more than willing to throw his uncle under the stagecoach in more ways than one. “I think that you have your scrolls mixed up.” 

The older man frowns. “This is from the latest census I will have you know.” He already has taken offense, yet another reason that he prefers the woods over people. Heck even dead people were better in some ways than the living. Especially his scheming uncle that wanted to sell him off. 

“Doesn’t make it accurate.” Harry folds his arms. “There are 4 people that live in this residence. Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley, Vernon Dursley, and Myself. I am Harry Potter.” Harry corrects and I was born on July 31st, not August 31st. We hardly have enough hands to harvest currently. Certainly, there are larger families or other options.” 

“It's close enough.” The man fidgets as the soldier looks over at him with keen intelligent eyes. He is clearly annoyed that things are not operating as they should have. “And while there are more families…” 

He is cut off by the officer. “Be that as it may young Harry, we have come to take you as we need to fill in the ranks. I tend to make sure that I am not sending boys to war unprepared, and have started to gather up those that will be new in order to put them through training before there is a need for them.” The blond man speaks almost kindly, but he has shifty eyes. Harry just knows that he can not take him for face value. “As a recruit, you will be able to send wages home for family members if you so wish it. There is little worry that your family will starve without your help.” 

This is not going anywhere. It seems that he is going to have to play along for now. Slip off when it became time.

“I guess earning some wages would be useful.” Harry pretends to be thinking it over. “I should pack my things, correct?”

He can’t really make a run for it now. They probably know that. They have an army or at least some well-trained soldiers mixed in with the farm boys they are collecting and he is sure that killing him would be much easier than dealing with someone that wants to run away from them at their earliest convenience. There was no way he was stepping near a battlefield that would be swarming with death. He will not become a warrior or champion in case that was what the entity that he had met wanted.

They fetch another boy to help him and Harry puts in his few belongings into the bag provided. They will be giving him everything else, even some clothes. Harry doesn’t have much but he packs his trusted knife, and things he needs to make his arrows, and a few more personal items. 

“You know.” The Redhead says, “I thought my family didn’t have much, but I wasn’t ever asked to sleep in the barn. Except if I was in trouble maybe.” 

Harry shrugs ignoring him for the most part. What is he supposed to say? Ah well, they hate me? His scar is giving a very soft thrum of pain. He takes it as a warning as he looks over the place he has called home for many years now. There is no sign of Padfoot, which means he can’t say goodbye to him. He has to believe that the dog will be alright, he had always at least been resourceful even before Harry started training him. 

“My name's Ron, by the way, Ronald Weasley, and it's not so bad to serve the nation. Almost all my brothers are soldiers. They had a better grip for magic than me. It’s going to be rough trying to rise in the rankings for me.” He sounds a little disappointed in his abilities. “What's your name?”

“Harry.” He answers with one word, pulling his bag close to himself. 

“You're not talkative are you?” Ron shakes his head. “That's probably for the best, the Lieutenant-Colonel is a bit concerned with how troops conduct themselves. I think he likes things to be quiet.”

As they climb up the hill towards the other boys they all start to shift at the sight of him. Harry almost wants to laugh at them. They are still scared as ever of him and they have never been in contact for more than a few seconds.

“Get him away.” Dean Tomas hisses to the Redhead. 

“Yes, he cursed that one.” Seamus shakes his head, everyone knows it. 

“There aren't really such things as curses are there?” A little boy that was no older than 10 asks hiding behind one of the older kid's legs. 

“There most certainly is.” Ernie the boy that played sometimes with Dudley spoke up. “And Harry was marked by Death.”

There is a lot of shuffling then and Harry sighs deeply knowing that this is not exactly going to get him any closer to making a getaway, especially if everyone is concerned by where he is and what he is standing by. 

“I’m not cursed.” Harry shakes his head. “I just have a scar from an old injury.” 

“That's not what my father told me.” Dean insists. “You're always running around the woods with the Grim.” 

There is a chorus of muttering now. 

“And your father is probably one of those superstitious fools.” Harry cuts him off. “I have a dog that happens to be black nothing more and he helps me to hunt.” 

“Hunt what?” The little boy is shaking now at the mention of black dogs and the Grim. 

“For the love of Merlin.” Harry puts pressure on the bridge of his nose. “I hunt birds, deer, and rabbits with the seasons. Legally and skillfully might I add.”

The murmuring continues. It continues long into their walk. Harry can tell that they are headed for the next town over and probably would be resting there and picking up a few more people. They stop briefly by another farm and words again are exchanged. And while they have just started to move again, the space between him and those around him grows. A little further and it would be the farthest he had ever traveled on the main roads. He knows though of a pass that would be useful to try and ditch the group. It’s not exactly a place that horses and average people would feel safe venturing off after him. 

He needed out of this mess. He could loop back towards home for Padfoot and then set out on the road better prepared. They didn’t have Dogs and he probably wouldn’t be worth chasing far after. He just hoped that Myrtle was not there. He has no want to hear her story again. A girl that killed herself because of heartbreak she had followed him for days wailing. Harry does feel sorry for her and all, but she mostly was annoying and creepy to look at for long periods of time. She had broken near every bone jumping wrong off of the bridge and so her ribs pressed out of her funny and her neck had a funny chink to it. She had not died instantly and she loved to tell of the pain in detail. She was always dripping wet with milky white eyes that could pierce through anything. He shuddered. 

The movement again causes more people to move away from him. It’s apparently enough to cause pacing issues, as everyone but Ron now has taken to making at least 15 feet of a bubble around him. 

“Halt.” There is a loud commanding voice. “What is with all this?” The man from his door has turned around his horse gesturing to the space around him. Harry sighs as there are a lot of jumbled explanations of how he is cursed and of rumors about what he has attached to him. 

“Cursed?” The blond man doesn’t seem to believe it fully. 

“He even has the mark on his face,” Dean explained. “The Grim marked him.” 

The steely eyes looked at him. “Ronald.” The redheaded boy straightened up. “Go get Cornelius from the front of the line. I want him to look at this.” 

“On it sir.” Ron rushed off quickly and Harry felt as if now every single eye was on him. It's his luck. It’s always his luck that something like this happens. 

His heart starts to pick up and his grip on his small bag tightens. 

They aren't at the pass yet, and he is blocked by a horse no less. 

There is a good chance that his head could come clean off in one movement. Killing him would be an easy feat and probably earn favor with the boys that were from his town. He grips harder on the bag, so hard that his knuckles turn white by the action. 

Should he run for it? He wouldn’t get far but it could bring him the freedom that he might not be able to get if they made it to the city. 

“I have heard of the Grim before.” The rider speaks to him. “I am not one that believes in foolish superstitions, however, there are truths to some of the older tales. We will see what Cornelius says and if it's worth worry, or if other methods need to be taken.” He doesn’t look very sympathetic, but then he is a hardened soldier and Harry knows he is just a young teen, nothing to cry over if he has to die. A waste of time and nothing else. 

Cornelius comes riding alongside Ron as it's not a very long line of people, a few wagons, a couple of horse riders, and a bunch of young teens that are going to be put to some use. He knows that the few girls that are around probably had magical potential. 

“Lord Malfoy.” The robbed man greets pulling on his horse to stop. “Weasely tells me that we have been having speculation of a person marked with the Grim.”

“Yes, the most recent pickup,” Malfoy says it as if Harry is not standing there. “He seems to be causing quite the stir. Does this super situation hold any merit?”

Cornelius swings himself off of his horse. He approaches slowly, and Harry can feel the shift in the air around him. Magic. He knows only a few people with the capability, he doesn’t know what this Cornelius is capable of but it causes his hairs to rise and goosebumps to form up his arms. The older man has a balding head, the blond is fading to gray. The closer he gets the more he can feel it. 

Harry takes one step back, he doubts that any of the others feel it. But even as there is the instinct to run, he can’t move his feet any further or he will brush the horse behind him. Cornelious takes one of his gloved hands and brushes his bangs over to the side. Harry holds perfectly still, even if every part of him wants the other away from him. He feels nutritious. 

“This mark is the clearest I have ever seen.” The man looks both fascinated and horrified he puts a harder pressure against his head. “I don’t know what marked you boy, but you definitely suffered a near-death experience. Yes, when you were younger. Yes...” 

The man's brown eyes widen and he draws back, coughing and eyes foggy. Everyone clears then away from him. Lord Malfoy is yelling for people to step back. It's like it is happening in slow motion. Cornelius is helped up by one of the other soldiers, he is gasping and shaking his head frantically as he falls nearly to his knees again . And Harry is just standing there wondering why the other's hand seems to be smoking as he had not felt his own magic react.

“Whatever made that mark, it's not good. Not good in any source of the word. I have a thought, but I don't know...” He rambles.

“Would it be best to dispatch him here and now then?” Malfoy has a grip on his sword's handle. Harry’s eyes dart around him looking for an opening, but there is nothing. Nowhere to go, those that have them are ready to draw their weapons. 

“No. I don’t know what will happen if he were to be killed, for all we know it could curse us all.” The old man seems to be hardly able to force his voice out. “Lucius, we need to take him to the Citadel. This goes deeper than me, and my capabilities. Albus and the Order are the only ones I can think of that would know about how to handle such a thing.”

Lucius looks at Harry with something akin to hate or disgust that his Aunt and Uncle looked at him with when he was first dumped onto their doorstep. “Is he a danger to us?” 

“I’m not a danger.” Harry immediately protests. “It's just an old scar.” 

They of course ignore him, who would listen to a 13-year-old boy anyway? He wouldn’t believe him if he had seen someone draw away from him as if he were burned. 

“It’s dormant for now, I think.” Cornelius rubs his hands together. “But I wouldn’t go about poking that scar.” 

“You will walk towards the back of us.” Lucius points at him. “We will take a small detour when we get back to the main city. Weasley, you and Cain are responsible for watching him. Do not let him out of your sight.” 

“I won’t sir,” Ron promises and Cain just nods. They bind his hands and take his bag and bow from him. Ron seems somewhat apologetic about the way that the rope bite into his wrists but Harry could care less about that. He busies himself with loosening them each time that someone's eyes are off of him. 

The bridge comes and Myrtle is nowhere in sight. With the two boys near him, one seemingly that has started his training and is allowed a sword Harry doesn’t feel comfortable trying to make a jump for the water. There is a very key way to do it, and if he messes it up there was no telling if he would ever surface again. Well, that and with his hands tied he does not like his chances of trying to swim. 

~/*\~

By the 3rd day the ropes have rubbed him raw, he however has managed to loosen them to a length that allows for his wrists to breathe. The one named Cain is starting to watch him less and Weasley tries to talk to him every once and awhile. He is the same age as Harry and maybe it is a trick to get information out of him, or purely because the redhead likes having someone forced to listen to him that he keeps it up. Harry would have in other situations been happy that someone wanted to talk to him, but considering the predicament that he was in, not talking, and trying to plan his way out of this mess was his best bet. He wanted to live. He really did. 

~/*\~

After a week Harry has decided that he really hates walking at the pace of Lucius who has a horse of all things. He is tired, and he has been feasted on by bugs. He is hungry and he is overly warm as the shade is nothing compared to sitting in the small retention pond at the end of his family's old property. Not that he really thinks they should be called that anymore. Not with the way they had practically sold him off. He hopes they starve come winter as Harry was the one that harvested and worked the hardest. He bets his cousin will complain and be far slower, and less skilled with prepping it all for storage. He hopes Uncle Vernon realizes as he is shivering and blue in his house, who it was that chopped the wood and was the most useful member of that household. 

Still...swimming would really be nice by now. 

~/*\~

The second week blurs and they are nearing the capital city. He only knows this because a few of the older teens have been talking about it around mealtime. While they still do not like Harry and Lucius has marked him as someone to interact little with, they do need to pass him or feed him. 

His time to escape is drawing near, he knows nothing of the capital city other than the Sect had a large church there and that Godric lived in a palace within the walls. He has no want to be anywhere near this Order or prison cells. He knows if he is behind bars, in a dungeon somewhere, that's the end of him. There is no way he would be able to make it out of the city. His best bet is the woods. 

~/*\~

“Do you really have to watch me pee?” Harry finally spits out to Cain that is posted behind him. They are slightly away from the group and Harry feels like this is the best possible area to achieve his getaway. It's rocky, and there is a cavern near here. These woods were rumored to have all sorts of things in them. 

“It's not like I am watching, kid.” Cain hisses back. “I am just keeping an eye on your back in case you get any ideas.”

“Right.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Like there is anywhere to go with my hands tied and no weapons?”

“You would be surprised.” Cain shrugs. “I’ve seen plenty of prisoners bolt.”

“He won’t bolt.” Ronald joins in. “There is nowhere for him to go, the Goatmen will get him.” 

“Or worse things.” Harry mentions. Not that he really knows what roam these hills. He has some experience with the woods, but if his time in them has anything to say about the world is that nothing is all that surprising far fetched. If fear of Goatmen and other things is enough to help buy him a split few seconds alone with them, fearful to run after him. Then by all means he would play into that. 

“There aren't any Goatmen or anything else. The Withered Woods is where things like that are from.” Cain says smartly as if he knows everything. 

“Oh, things come down from the mountains and out of caves all the time.” Harry says pleasantly, “There are large spiders that are the size of dogs, goblins, and wolves, very large ones.”  
Spiders don’t get that big. 

Ron looks uncomfortable at that. He looks towards the trees that are darkening.”

“Keep you wits, Ronald. He is just trying to scare us.” 

“I’m really not. How do you think I got this scar they think is a curse mark? I got lost in the woods and nearly fell to my death because I heard things talking.” 

“The skin changers are another myth.” Cain though this time is watching the sides of them. 

Harry laughs. “You aren’t from around here. There are lots of things that man might not have seen for a while but exists.” 

He speaks of course from experience. The spirits of the forest have been kind to him with one nameable exception. He still gave them proper thanks, he still respected them. There is a rustling near them and the boys both jump as another one of the group members comes up the path.

“We're going to rest for the evening.” He says his eyes lingering on Harry. “Hurry up and get your arses back up to the campsite or it will be mine and your guys' heads that the squad leader bites off. 

Harry smiles at him and sits by the tree that he needs to rest. His rope is tied to the tree and he waits till the light of the fire goes out, and the night is dark. He then wiggles his wrists free. Stepping softly, sure-footedly away from his captors. Yes, there are lookouts but it's easy enough to dip behind trees and brush when they look around paranoid that someone or something is in the trees. 

Cain even if he is usually very vigilant is tired. They have been marching for days and he has been trying to keep the best tabs he can on Harry. He would respect him if he wasn’t such a prat. He scoops up his bag that Cain has put his own things into as he seems to think that Harry’s stuff is his. He can’t risk trying to get his bow. 

He slips off into the night, deeper and deeper into the off-beaten path. It's very dark but he takes off when he is far enough away from camp he runs because he has to make it far enough that a quick area search will end in them finding nothing. He knows where the nearest town is from here. He has been keeping careful watch. He might not be able to read but he can recognize marks. He just has to make it two towns back and he is sure that he will be home free. Not that he needs much. He just needs another knife, a good one, and some string and he can gather what he needs to make arrows, a new bow, and hunt or even fish. 

Fish sounds really good right about now. 

He pauses as he hears something coming from some undergrowth. A small outline appears shimmering in the night, bold green and blue. The rabbit turns its face towards him, and for once it is not some creepy thing that has a mutilated face.

“Are you one that guards these woods?” He asks politely. 

The rabbit's nose twitches and its ears go to a more relaxed position. It nods once and moves forward about its way. Harry follows it as it takes him even deeper into the woods and toward towering trees and those that are very old. He treks down large roots and between them. It is there that the rabbit pauses and fades by the curtain of thinner growth and weeds. He bends down and peers into the small dark hole, which is a lot deeper than it first appeared. A face greets him, beautiful pale and certainly spirit-like, perhaps one of the important ones for he has never seen someone as pretty as her, her form is that of near sunlight bright and magical. Her eyes blue and hair like starlight. There are flowers that are twisted up into it. She wears things that can only have come from the world around her. 

She crawls out and stands close to him. 

“I'm sharing a dream walk.” The girl says to him. “They can happen as there are lines between places that are weaker than others. I might have fallen down yet another of my rabbit holes.”

“I am not dreaming.” Harry tells her. “So you probably aren’t either.” 

She looks to be about his age, she pokes him lightly, and he can feel the warmth to her skin and soft touch. There is something so off about her, yet she feels human. 

“So you're not.” She shakes her head. “ Doesn’t mean that I am not. I feel like I have met you before in my dreams. I have seen a boy like you with such a scar. Much younger, and another older than you are. But then I know most things that have passed and are yet to come.” 

He touches his scar and covers it quickly with his hair. She moves unbothered toward one of the many tangled roots to the large tree and he follows her. 

“What is your name, great spirit?” He is fascinated by her, captivated really. Her magic feels like his mother’s, father’s, and his own. It is that of nature, it is that of earth, season, and rain. It comes with the respect of the world, of the environment, and the universe. 

She laughs softly. “I am not a spirit, though one gave me a gift to move about her woods as if they all are my own home. I am Luna. ” Her bare feet kick against the bark as they swing. “What is your name?” 

“Harry.” He answers her. 

Her eyes widen at the realization of it. “Harry.” She repeats. She moves back towards her hole swiftly. “I was not meant to travel this way, not yet. Oh, dear. We are not to meet till the next moon or were. Time is such a funny thing isn’t it?” 

He blinks. 

“I would be careful Harry. Until we meet again, I will not be much use to you and your quest.” She starts to shimmy backward the way that she has come.

“I’m not on any quest.” He tries to talk to her more but she is gone, it is as if she was never there the only thing that remains is the bare feet marks in the mud to clarify to him at least that there had been someone there and he is not crazy. 

He needs to keep moving. He is wasting time. It’s not like this was too weird of a thing to see in the woods and he keeps telling himself that until he believes it. 

~/*\~

Harry rests under a smaller tree, he knows that he must continue north to get back towards the previous towns. It would be at least 3 days until the first one and another 2 from there back to a manageable place to seek work and shelter for a little while. 

He doesn’t have too great of a plan at this point, but Harry supposes that he has never been a planner when it came to the long term. For now, what he is doing is just going to have to work. He stands on sore feet and continues to walk back the way that he has come. Stopping now and then to drink from the river and to scavenge some berries that he knows are the correct ones to eat without risk. 

A few days pass easily like this and he is able to make it back to the last town that they had stopped in. there are however soldiers there, and more of them then what he had been traveling with. 

There was no way that they were actively looking for him, but it doesn’t exactly scream welcoming nor a good idea to stop. It's alright, he can spearfish and continue down the riverway. He moves low to the ground back to the deeper woods.

“You are rather poor at hiding.” A voice dowels behind him and he feels a weight on his shoulder. “Prey tell me why you are lurking in the bushes?” 

He turns and sees a boy in armor, his face is like a younger Lucius. He even had that bad way of combing his hair to reveal his large forehead. 

Fuck. 

“I’m hunting.” Harry lies quickly.

“Are you now?” The blond lowers his sword moderately. “You know what I think?”

“No, but I have a feeling that you will tell me anyway.” Harry attempts to move backward away from the other.

“Witty, but that won’t put you in my graces. I think you're a runaway from the call.” 

“I think you're mistaken.” Harry puts his hands up as the sword pressed against his chest but not enough to draw blood. 

“I’m never wrong, but in the off chance that I am, you wouldn’t mind providing me with some documentation.” The boy smiles at him, largely with nice teeth. 

Harry pretends to search his bag frantically. “What do you know, must be in a different bag, if I could head back…” 

“You’re coming with me.” The boy insists. 

“Right.” Harry sighs loudly before ducking and kicking the other in the leg hard with one leg. He just manages to trip the other and start running when he hits something hard. A mountain of a man wearing a bright lion insignia on his shirt. 

“I hope you have a good excuse for tripping Master Malfoy.” He grunts out. 

Double fuck. 

~/*\~

Harry finds himself locked in a wagon with the stored goods for the rest of the journey towards the capital. While he is not able to move around as much, and his body aches for the fresh air and movement. Harry is not a person that is meant to be in a cage. It causes nonstop fidgeting and pacing. Not that he is really able to move all that well. His bruises wouldn’t allow that. He finds that it is easier to sleep off the time that he is in there. It's not that he is resigned to his fate, far from it. He still is trying to figure out how to escape. But he has no clue where he is, he is hurt, and he has nothing now for real if he was to get out of this situation. Not the best chances for survival. 

His only hope is to rest and build back his strength for when his life is no doubt in danger yet again. 

The city is alive with more people than Harry has ever seen. The buildings tower overall, and there are thick walls that seem to touch the sky. His hopes are slowly sinking. He can not think of a way out of such a place and because he can not read all the signs start to blur together and he knows that he would not be able to find his way through such a stone maze. 

“Alright, you get out.” The small Malfoy orders him. He has back up, of course, at least 12 armed guards just for him and Cornelius that is hiding behind all of them with another man that has on a black, well maintained, robe. He has short black hair that looks to be greasy and a large nose. The most pressing thing about him is his withering stare. He holds scrolls in his hand and is writing something down upon them. 

Harry is shoved and pulled into the light, as he has taken a few seconds too long. 

“This is the one with the mark?” The black-haired man asks in disbelief. “He can not be the one to do it. He is far too small and scrawny.”

“I felt it, Severus.” Cornelius insists. “It's a perfect lighting bolt and everything. It's not like the curved ones that the Dark Ones carve.” 

Severus’s lip curls. “I suppose that Dumbledore will want to see it then. He has been looking for the marked one for a while. Ever since Trelawney made that bloody prophecy.” 

“Yes, yes, and I swear that we have found him. He is even born at the proper time and everything.” Cornelius sputters off as they move towards a towering cathedral.


	3. A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's life derails when she meets a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back.

A complex sits in the middle of thick woods. There is evidence at one point the area around it might have been a bit more clear as the brush is not as tall or thick. There are smaller trees growing over old logs with the burnt marks. The base of the house is sunken into the ground and in ruins. Stones surround a hole that is most likely the chimney. A boy moves around the stones, turning them over carefully as he searches there is nothing left, not even a bone or two. No signs of the book, no signs of the ring, or any of the documentation that he needs. There should have been people here. Bodies really, it’s his family home after all, and yet he can’t find as little as a tooth. He turned over more stones, there had to be something. Anything that could help him. And yet, there was nothing. He kicks the rotting floorboards in frustration. 

“We keep looking.” He tells the small cat that rubs against his legs. “It has to be here somewhere, or some evidence of it.” The green orbs stare up at him, unblinkingly as he lifts up a rather heavy bag and puts it on his back. 

~/*\~

The cathedral is large, there are stained glass windows that climb up towards the tallest parts of the towers. They are of many things, the Lord of Light, a Phoenix, and of people he knows nothing of. They seem to move slightly in their panes. The large gargoyles look down from their perches, mouths open in screams. Harry wonders if that is to show the promise of Hell should one falter on the proper path. Not that Harry really believes in the correct path that they are selling. He is a firm believer in learning from his ancestors at least the ones tied to nature. 

There isn’t so much as a plant in the place, all stone, brick, and mortar. He passes through a very thick gate. It is there that most of his escort leaves, as there are more people in robes moving about. Cornelius nods to one of the older men as they leave, making Lucius look-alike with them. 

Harry can at least be slightly relieved that brat is nowhere near him anymore, even if this place he has entered wrecked of magic. His scar pulses slightly, it doesn’t like the place, and Harry can not help but agree with it. 

A very ancient-looking man comes to greet them. His red robes swirl around him, like a pool of blood. His hat is much more pointed than the others and is adorned with strange symbols. He is flocked by an older stern-faced woman in dark rich green robes that remind him of treetops at night. She wears a large hat that covers a little of her face. To the left and downward there is a rather small man, he is childlike in size, smaller than Harry even. He is younger but certainly an adult with the thick beard that covers his chin. 

“The restraints are not necessary any longer.” The old man claps and they disappear. Harry rubs lightly against the damaged flesh. “Please Severus lead our guest to get cleaned up. I am sure that it has been a long journey for him. Cornelius, please head to my office once you do the same so that we can chat.”

The black-haired man seems to scowl deeper and Harry’s scar starts to throb harder. “As you wish, Head Priest Dumbledore.” 

~/*\~

She sits in a tall tower, she is not a princess that is meant to be rescued like the stories of old and fairy tales, although her door can be barred at times, and with nothing more than a slit for a window to look out of, she very well could seem like someone that was in need of rescuing. She has long grown past the mythical people that live inside of storybooks, for they only exist there and not in the capital. She knows that there has to be those knights of valor, those kindly people, somewhere in the world. People can be truly good, but not here. 

No not here. 

She brushes her long brown hair over her shoulder and rubs at tired eyes. She one day will go there. One day will be away from this place. She dips the quill into the ink and starts to address the letters that she is supposed to be copying for documentation reasons. She would much rather be learning about potions and alchemy. Severus had told her that she was not completely inept at it and even with her magical flare-ups that she shows promise. He might be inclined to help her learn more than the basic healing pastes and ointments that she would make when she wasn’t tasked with writing something down if she would give up her little fascinations and fantasies. 

Severus thinks the world is full of evil. He thinks it's beyond saving and is probably way past tired of hearing her hopeful interpretation. She can not help it. She is hopeful and she just wants to learn by doing, by being out there. If she could be a healer she would be able to get out of this place, or if she was able to make better predictions than Trelawney or if she was the best scribe that there was. All of these things could lead to the freedom that she so desires. 

Yes, Gryffindor is a wondrous city, there are people from all walks of life, places, and great expenses with culture to be had. She has seen it all from the slits in the windows and the many pictures in books. Such things could never compete with the real thing. If anything reading the historic accounts of the world solidifies her belief that she belongs out in it. 

How was humanity to change if they never were out there helping it along? 

How was she really to learn if half of the books collected were locked away for being things that the Lord of Light would frown upon?

When the Lord was supposed to have created everything, and everyone? 

She has seen some of those books before they were locked away, read some of the passages, and she can not understand how they could be wrong or so evil that they were best unknown about. But, if she voiced any of these things they would lock her away for time to reflect on the teachings, and the words of Light. Severus would tell her to get her head out of the clouds and focus on what is reasonable, achievable. He wouldn’t teach someone that was pigheaded enough to think that the recipes and his potions could be improved upon with some insight into other books or practices. 

The others would not agree to let her go unless she showed promise in other areas, or she really excelled. So she pressed, she worked, and she gave her all. And they still didn’t think that she had the temperament to be outside of the cathedral. It was because she had dreams, she had will, and believed that they shouldn’t abandon their fellow man or beast. The Order was not exactly a group that dealt too much with the world's calamities, at least in recent years. It's probably why her thinking is constantly getting her into trouble. At one point there was not a place one could not find a person practicing the Lord of Lights magical ways. For the Lord of Light served all peoples not just the Magical, but the Muggle, the rich and the poor alike. They were all her children. Now the servants spent all of their time in dusty rooms, praising, researching, and training the next generations to do the same. Very few ventured out into the world and fewer farther than the cities or more populated towns that they were sent to. 

Hogwarts Cathedral was both a school, a place of worship, but also a prison at least to her. The days were long and they blended together. She is going to be 14 soon and she can not imagine spending the rest of her life writing things down for other people. 

She shakes her hand as it cramps and continues to write. This life, this work, there is nothing rewarding in it, nothing fulfilling. She blinks out frustrated tears. Yet she knows that she has no other great worth at the moment other than her memory that is exceptional, her penmanship that is neat, and her ability to read. She has no idea what she could do if she was suddenly free or where her skills would be useful outside of the Order and the Church. 

There is honor enough to be had, but when the chips are down people show their true faces, true colors. And she would say that most of the time that they are not kind. Even her own, that study alongside her, have hardened their hearts. They say that they grieve or that their hearts were with those that were suffering, but they send little aid and more than a prayer their way. She will be one of the ones that ventures out into the world, no matter what the others may think of her for such an action. 

Even if she has to claw her way out there. She knows the truth or lest she thinks that she does about the world around her. There are dark evils and there is good. One just has to be brave enough to go and fight for what they believe in. And she would fight for it when she had the means to do so.

In her dreams at least, her spirit flies high above the sturdy walls of their small courtyard. It sings louder than any of the other voices in the chorus or the bells that are rung. It beats to be a force of good, love, and someone that could spread the word and piece of mind. She can’t let it just remain there. 

Hermione Granger hears a loud demanding knock upon her door. She rubs her hands on a towel to get off the ink that is yet to dry on her fingers and stands. 

“Priestess McGonagall.” She bows her head in greeting. “Can I help you with anything?”

She silently wonders if she is in trouble for writing another request to be transferred by mixing it with the outgoing mail. But if that were the case she doubts that the priestess would have been smiling a rather forced looking one. 

“The Head Priest has asked me to deliver your instructions to you. There is a boy that has been brought here. It is your task to befriend him. A child such as him will need a friend in this trying time. This task is not only extremely important but also a good test if you would be of use in fieldwork. As a priestess of the Lord of Light must be able to connect with those that she is meant to help and serve.” 

Her heart beats greatly at the chance. It is the sign that she has been waiting for, an opportunity to show that she had what it takes. “I will not fail.” She announces with pride and all the confidence that she can muster. 

“See that you don’t.” Minerva looks at her again with stern eyes before handing over a small scroll and taking her leave. Hermione carefully opens the seal, even with how eager she is for her task she does not want to risk damaging the documents.

~/*\~

Harry sits in a small room; it has a bed, small desk, and clean clothes for him. It's a mini bedroom far nicer than what he had been living in for the past few years, but he does not let that fool him. A cage was a cage no matter how pretty it looked and he knew that they had something to be fearful of resting in his scar or just the mark, in general, was enough to disturb them. 

He has a small opening for a window but it is not very useful for anything but to peer through. The door is a thick wooden one, he has tested it and knows that it is locked. There is not a thing to do but sit, and he is so tired of sitting. He sits at the desk that has a small mirror on it.

“This is all your fault.” He whispers to the scar that is upon his head, he has no reason to do this other than it feels good to say it out loud. “If you never asked that thing for help and it never marked you things would have been a lot better.” 

Well there was the fact that he could be dead which wouldn’t have been all that great, but perhaps death would have been kinder than whatever was awaiting him here. He has heard of exorcists and the things that were done to those that practiced forbidden things. It was not good, not good at all. 

His reflection stares back at him, but it almost seems off in the lighting, his face darker, eyes wetter. The more he looks at it, the more that he sees the twisting of shadows, and the image distorts. He quickly places it downward so that he no longer can see himself. 

A small knock takes him from his thoughts as the door opens there is a girl that stands there in front of him. She wears robes that are dark and have the flame symbol upon them. She is one of them, but she is the youngest member that he has ever seen. She smiles at him, showing two rather large front teeth and places the tray of food near him. She is something to look at, not because she is overly attractive but rather because he has never seen someone that was quite hair color before. She was darker-skinned than any that he had ever seen. She is not tan from the looks of her and her hair is dark and almost nest-like. He does not want to stare but he can not exactly help it. 

“Hello.” She greets. “I brought you some food.”

“I can see that.” He answers her. 

“Right…” She trails off. She looks like he has slapped her, which just won’t sit right with him no matter how he tries to keep in mind that she probably was spying on him. Why else send someone his own age, but to befriend him? He isn’t stupid even if people liked to think he was. He cautiously takes a bite of the bread that has been offered to him. He doesn’t know if there is anything in the soup but at this point, he is so hungry he doesn't care too much about the option. There is no chance to escape yet.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch me eat?” He raises an eyebrow, testing the waters of conversations. 

“I could leave if you want.” The girl sighs. “I just thought I would stay and wait for the tray though.”

“Makes sense.” Harry offers her, still not ready to believe her but he understands not wanting to make multiple trips places. He also can not help but be curious about her. 

“My name is Hermione.” She blurts, “What is yours?” 

“Harry.” He doesn’t see the problem with telling her that. Everyone would know that about him at the very least. He had corrected the organizer after all about what it actually was. 

“It's nice to meet you, Harry.” She seems a little more assured of herself now even if she is just standing off in the corner. “You are not from around here, what is it like where you're from?” 

That takes him a little off guard, he had expected her to launch into asking about his family or his magic. Maybe even bring up the Grim that everyone seemed so concerned over. He pauses in his chewing. 

“It's quiet and there are a lot of woods.” He shrugs feeling that slight unease prickle against his skin again. 

“I’ve never seen the woods.” Hermione has a far off look on her face. She has a smile but it looks almost pained. If she is acting she is going a rather good job of it. 

“You have never seen the woods?” Such a thing sounds impossible to him, even around the city there is woods. Everywhere but this concrete place has some sort of nature. 

“I know that it might sound weird, but I have never been outside the city. I haven’t really been allowed off the Orders grounds and the few times that I have been it's just been outside the gates and we did not go very far.”

“You sound like you're a prisoner here.” Harry says almost sad for her. Even when he had lived with his relatives there were places that he was able to go. If he was really angry he just spent a couple of days out on his own. Not like the Dursleys had the courage to follow after him. 

She looks offended by the suggestion. “I’m not. I haven’t had much reason to explore. I have had duties here that have kept me quite busy. When I am ready they will let me do more public work.”

Harry shrugs, finishing off the bread. “Whatever you say. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere that told me what to do all the time and didn’t let me go to the places that I wanted to.” 

She makes a face. “Well, I hope one day that I can go around where I want to, travel a bit. But duty is important. It's okay not to get to do those things right away.” 

Harry smiles kindly. “Life is short, there is no time like the present to do what you wish to do.”

They lapse into silence and the only sound is him eating. Hermione watches probably as she has nothing better to do. She seems deep and lost in thought for a bit. 

“If you were to do anything, and I do mean anything, what is it that you would do. Harry?” She considers him. 

“I would go to see the ocean. I heard that it is bigger than any lake or river. So vast that you can not see the other side.” Harry feels himself smiling. “I want to wade out into it and feel the waves crash against me.” 

“I have read about the ocean.” She smiles back at him. Her eyes are wild then and full of life, books were probably her escape. Harry almost envied the ability to read. “I like the tales of whaling ships that have seen the great sea serpents and large sharks. I thought it would be nice to see the jungles. See the different plants, I use in some of the potions that I make alive and thriving in their natural habitat. Is it nice to sit in trees and such?” 

He laughs at that softly because that has to be the silliest of all questions that he has ever been asked. “Yes, it is very nice to sit in them, if you don’t climb to the height that the branches give underneath you.”

She shakes her head. “I will keep it in mind when I get the chance.”

“Then here's to hoping that you can eventually get around to it.” He scarfs down the rest of his soup and places everything on the tray for her. “I guess I should also wish you luck with the Lord of Light stuff.”

“It's not just stuff.” She all but gasps at him. “It's very important work from our Goddess.” 

“I have met plenty of spirits and I have never met a Lord of Light. They never asked for much in return for their services either. Your Goddess demands a lot of fancy worship places, and for those to commit to her for salvation.” Harry shrugs.

“She doesn't, she just wishes for sacred places to meet. Yes, there are things that she would like but it's not as if she commands them. There are just enough people that wish to give her such things. There weren’t many that focused on spirits.” Hermione tries. 

“There were a lot of people that worshiped the forest that had to stop because of her doctrine. Just because we didn’t build temples and such did not mean that there weren’t those dedicated.” Harry folds his arms now. He will not be convinced otherwise. “No matter what happens I think I will stick to the old ways. I trust my parents and the things that I have seen over something that has been told to me by strangers. That I have no evidence of.” 

“Is it not better if you were to be given proof to follow something that is correct?” She collects up the tray. “To believe in it. I have seen her sign, a phoenix that has perched on our temple gates. There are also so many written accounts. The spirits of the forests haven’t been seen or heard from in ages.” 

“You don’t think spirits and forces of nature exist, but a little bird is proof enough for you to believe whatever someone wrote down? What if they were lying?” Harry raises his eyebrow. “You were never out and about to look at the things for yourself. How can you claim that there hasn’t been sightings or their works?” 

He grows tired of this conversation. He knows that he won’t change her mind and she will not change his. 

“What if you are lying about seeing them?” Hermione demands. 

“What if you are about your Goddess? What if you're being lied to?” Harry counters watching her face get redder and redder. “I have no reason to lie and it really doesn't matter all that much to me. You can choose to believe in whatever it is that you want. Just don’t force it onto me.”

He just wants her to go. He did not mean to start a whole religious argument. Not when she obviously has been indoctrinated in her faith. She seems to consider this as her time to leave. She pauses in the doorway as it opens for her with a slight brush of her hand. 

“Why would it not matter?”

She looks very confused. He doesn’t blame her, it's not like they would tell her about Death or maybe even the Grim even. It's not something that he thinks others want to think about, what they become when they die. He has seen enough to know. He knows they all end up going towards the same place, in his dreams he can see the darkness and that thing waiting in the mists. Perhaps there are good places for people that lived good lives, but when faced with the things he has seen it's much easier to believe that they did become part of the earth and there was no after unless souls stuck around as ghosts unable to pass on. 

“We all die eventually, we all go to the same place.” Harry sighs. “It matters not God we pray to, nor innocence. Death comes for everyone.” 

She quickly leaves after that.

~/*\~

Hermione encounters the strange boy many times after this with bringing food and changes of clothes. She offers him something to read as if she were him she would have gone crazy by now. But he can not read. Such a thing to her is incredibly sad, as reading was one of the few things that kept her going. She didn’t truly have friends as the other Order members were older than her, and while not hating her coming to talk to them about things, she can tell that she bores and or annoys them. 

She brings him some wax and cubes and a few small tools that were not sharp or could really be used as weapons to carve the cubes into shapes. She made more to replace the ones that she had taken and figured that she could collect the scraps from his work to melt into a few smaller cubes for him to use. 

Harry becomes something she looks forward to, as he is different. And while it has only been a few days, she feels connected to him. It was as if they were always supposed to meet, and to make friends. Though she knows very little about why he is here. He is not a recruit of that she is certain, he is not a prisoner as the church did not take those. He was something though, even if she could not riddle out exactly what. No one would tell her that either. They just said he had to stay with them for the time being. She feels that despite her task and their questions of how he was and such, that they were becoming closer. Even if it seemed more reluctant on Harry's end. 

She did like the idea of friends, and in a way, her task was nothing more than a blessing. Especially if she gets to ask questions freely of him, could wonder the things out loud that she often did not have the courage to say. Books and cleverness were important to her, but she was learning that perhaps there were more important things like bravery to speak one's mind, to wander, to dream. And having a friend to do such things with seemed like the most important thing of all. 

~/*\~

It is not till a few days later that Harry finds himself outside of the very small room that they had originally stuck him in. He had expected them to leave him there for longer just so that they could get the full account of who he was, what they could be dealing with, and then decided about an interrogation method. All these things he supposes wouldn’t take too long to draw up, but for dramatic purposes, they would keep him locked away to make sure that he would tell them what they wanted. Agree to have them help him, and such. But they had only waited a few days, so that wasn’t their method of choice. 

Now that he thinks about it, he is sure they want to hear that he has been messing with Dark entities or something like that. It would make doing horrible things to him seem even more justifiable than just claiming he was a kid that was possessed. Cornelius really seemed like the shady type. He was rather fidgety even when there was no way that Harry possibly could have hurt him. 

The church back home liked to constantly remind people of their sins and the laws that were in place. They had a very great way of apologizing for the sins of others, seizing land, and excommunicating people that didn’t fit their ideal citizens. Harry knows that at one time the church had been little and it didn’t play a role in affecting others. But if the army brought him here than it seemed that it had become more than a small governing body like in his community. It had struck a much higher authority and wielded immense power.

He is led to a room that has a nice little table in it and a few chairs that surround it. While his hands are not bound he can note that the floor is covered with tiles, each that has their own markings upon them. The old man that he had met briefly, looks over his spectacles at him that glitter in the darkened space. There are a lot of candles lit but the overall light quality of the room is low. There are a few other people, the man Severus that had dropped him off for his bath, Cornelius, and the older woman from before in the green robe. Her hat this time though was slightly adjusted. 

The long-bearded old man steps forward. “I would like you to forgive me for this Harry but I need to see your mark.” 

“It's a scar.” He defends himself. 

“Yes your scar.” The man does not argue. He takes a careful step forward and brushes his hand against Harry’s bangs, he can feel a slight prickling of his flesh at the action. “It is quite the scar, how did you receive it.” 

Blue eyes look into his, and he almost feels compelled to spill every secret that he has ever had, those blue eyes are a lake. They are pools that he feels drawn to, drowning in. There is magic in the air, soft and gentle. 

“I got it the night that my parents were killed. I fell down hard onto the rocks by the cliffside while trying to outrun one of the men.”

“Men..?” The head priest repeats. “What did these men look like?” 

Harry bites down hard against his lip, but the words come out anyway. “They all wore embroidered masks. Abraxas was the only name that I heard.”

“That is a very serious accusation.” The older woman shook her head. “Abraxas was never the good sort but he certainly would not be working with the likes of them.”

“Harry this is very important.” Dumbledore says it like they are friends like he cares anything about him. He has a wave of something cloud his mind for a second or two that almost makes him believe that they could be if he told him everything. “I need you to tell me more about that night you received your mark.”

He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and as soon as the clarity forms it goes away. His mind has never been kind to him but images are starting to surface in fast. He can see the dead things in blue and green glows, the dark paws reaching for him, and the men in masks. As quickly as the storm of images have appeared they have disappeared. 

He is gasping and holding onto the chair as he can now tell what Dumbledore’s magic is. It is the magic of the mind and he has little doubt that there is any secret that could ever be hidden from that intense gaze.

“I am very sorry, my boy.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Harry snaps. “I am not your boy.”

He hates that tone of voice being used against him, and maybe it would serve him better to play along with the person that held the key to his fate. But this man had done something that just felt so violating, and gave him an intense headache.

“All children, man, or beast, were created by the Light.” Dumbledore smiles a smile that is not quite malicious but it doesn’t sit well with him. As Harry would argue that it was the dark that took them all eventually. “I know that you don’t believe me but I am deeply sorry for what has been taken from you.”

The man moves to take a seat across from him, tea is brought forward and the others in the room sit so they can all have some. Harry doesn’t take the cup. He wants nothing of what they are serving. 

“The masked men that you have seen serve the dark. They worship Death but not just any death god, they claim to be servants of Vold-Morte. And have thus named themselves the Coven of Death Eaters, Morsmordre, the mark of supine and skull. It is unclear why they sought to murder your parents, however, it seems that they did manage to call a very powerful spirit forward that evening. Hence the mark that has made its home on your face. Many would call it the Grim as any deep gashing mark that could have caused death is associated with it.” 

“But that isn’t what you would call it.” Harry takes a wild guess. Why did he have a feeling that it would be something much worse? 

“The old gods, the ones that we no longer worship for a very good reason attributed the lightning bolt as a symbol of power to the one that created it, but a curse upon the one that it was cast on. It was used to reference the fertility of men, and unpredictability of events to take place. The fates have all near been wiped out at this point but they do still like to meddle with things. The question is does your mark mean the lighter concepts associated with the symbol or the darker forces.”

Dumbledore strokes his beard. The room around him is silent with the only sound is the clinking of drink cups. 

“I do believe that the lightning bolt was first acclaimed with mentions of the loss of innocence. The boy certainly has lost it if he saw his parents murdered. And we all know that the dark god likes to feast upon those that are no longer innocent of the knowledge of death. He gifts them the sight to see Thrisals of all things.” Cornelius interjects his own narrative. 

“It is true that the mark was made under poor circumstances.” Dumbledore considers his words. “However that is not exactly concrete enough evidence as there has been those blessed in even the darkest of situations. Severus, you know of the Coven. What is your say?”

The hooked nose man bows his head in thought. “When I was subjected to a few years in their services they were very adamant that there would come a champion for their dark god. This warrior was said to be the one capable of bringing about the end of the world. Even if he has a convincing mark, I don’t believe that this boy is capable of it. His magic is low, he has no training to speak of, and is too old for such discipline.” 

“Minerva.” Dumbledore turns to the older woman.

“He’s just a boy Albus.” She says softly. “Even if there is a mark on him. I don’t believe that he can turn dark or that he would be the vessel.”

They all turn to face him all seeming to remember that he is there and waiting to see if he can say anything in his own defense. He isn’t even sure though what they want to hear or what he should even say. 

“There are ways in which to test if there is something darker attached.” Cornelius clears his throat. 

“They are inhumane.” Minerva automatically interjects.

“Be that as it may, it is best that we know.” Dumbledore sighs gravely. “It may be nothing, but if it is to be a vessel for him to come into our world, if there is even a small risk, we owe it to those under our protection to make sure that the end does not come for them all.”

Harry feels violently sick at the implication of that sentence.

~/*\~

He is bounced back to his room so that they can continue to argue amongst themselves about what is his proper fate. While most things are uncertain, he knows that escaping at his nearest convenience is his top priority as he has a horrible feeling that soon it wouldn’t be an option anymore because he most likely would not be alive. 

They had to be crazy. There was no way that he could end the world. He never had even really hurt another person unless they were hurting him. He can not imagine killing hundreds of people. He can not see himself as a servant of anyone that would want to cause that much destruction and or harm. It’s all a mistake the being that he had met seemed to be disgusted with those that were using him or it for the dark. 

It was all some horrible mistake and he is not going to suffer and or die because of it. He looks at the tools that Hermione has given him, and wonders if they would be any use in trying to get the door open. 

It's no luck, after hours he has only managed to bend one of the small tools. He has no skill at this. There has to be another approach. So when Hermione comes to deliver the tray, he attempts to talk to her. Ask her more about the complex and about the people that world inside of it. Anything that would be useful in an escape. He does not expect it to travel into him divulging that his parents are dead. He tells her a little about his shitty relatives too. Maybe it's just easy to talk to her because she is the first that is interested in hearing what he has to say. It's like she actually cares what happens to him. 

But he is not really ready to try and convince her to help him. She might be understanding and sympathetic but that did not mean that she was willing to betray the church in order to help someone that might not be as close to a stranger as before, but that didn’t mean that she knew all that much about him and that he would be worth much to her. 

Hermione seems to understand a bit too well, as she sits close to him on the bed. 

“You know, I don’t really have a family either.” Hermione sighs deeply. “I suppose we are like that in that regard. I was brought to the church when I was very small. I don’t remember my family at all. My parents wanted to sell me for a few coins. Can you imagine, they were that desperate? The Order was on a missionary trip and they offered me up. Maybe they did it because they knew I would have a better life. Maybe they didn’t care at all. But I suppose I understand the feeling of not being wanted. Even now.” 

She sounds very hurt by this, and this thing is he can imagine it in a way. He can truly. “My remaining family attempted to barter me off to the army.” He offers. “It was just their last spite I like to think.” 

“It worked out well enough for me. Minerva raised me.” Hermione smiled slightly. “She is a stern woman, a good woman, but I have always wished for more from her. Almost as much as I wanted before I knew to know my real mother. I am glad that yours for what little time you had with her was kind to you.” 

Her face holds back tears for him, them really. Harry reaches out to her and they hug like they have known each other for a very long time. 

~/*\~

“I can not condone this.” The Head Priest Mcgunigall stands out in the halls towards the many living space rooms, “I wash my hands of it. If you intend to do that to the boy for no other reason then your own fears I hand in my resignation here and demand a reassignment.” 

“Minerva please.” The Head Priest lowered his voice attempting to speak reason to her. 

Hermione hides behind the wall with her tray, she has been asked to deliver food to the boy that she knows they are talking about. They never called him by his name. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop as that certainly was a sin, but she has no want to step into the middle of such a thing. 

“Don’t Minerva me Albus.” she hisses, “I will not stand for it. Hermione and I will be moving out of your distinction and that is the end of it.”

“You don’t have a claim on her, she has dedicated herself just as you have.” The old man’s tone becomes a little harsh. 

“I would like you to try and take her from me. I have raised her, and I will take her where I see fit.”

“I ask you to reconsider. Your services to the city are most needed. Your want to protect the Potter boy is commendable. But if you do want what is best for Hermione she can not hope to get a better education than the one that she is receiving here.” 

“I would rather her receive a less grand education than have compromised mortals. Albus, you can not be really considering this, the only way to truly test if he is an anchor is far too magical draining. There is a high chance that he would not survive it.” 

The Head Prisitest storms away and she nearly hits her as she rounds the corner. Hermione can tell that her mother-like figure is startled to see her there, but she pats her on her head in an unlike her gesture of affection. 

“We will talk later.” The woman promises as she heads to her office. 

Her mind swirls as she makes it to Harry’s door. She knows little of him, but he was her age. He certainly did not deserve whatever it was that they were planning as it didn’t sound good at all. He seemed like a good soul, not in the faith, but a good soul. And if Minerva was worried about it, then certainly there was a reason for it. 

She regardless puts a smile on her face, being kind to someone like him is suddenly a very important task. Especially because he is in danger and in now seeming worse off conditions than what she had originally imagined. They are friends she likes to think and friends did not needlessly worry their friends. 

Right?

~/*\~

Harry knows that something is off about Hermione; she tries to dictate conversation in certain directions. Until finally she offers a very odd thing. She offers to read to him or teach him to. 

“I have many books.” She insists, “they are from many different places, many tales, and such. I could read to you, Harry. It would make your time here better. It would be like an escape for a few hours.”

“Hermione, do you know what they are planning to do?” He asks her seriously, as that could explain why she was so eager to do something for him. 

She stops looking at him. “No, not exactly, they never told me why you were here. Minerva thinks the Head Priest has gone crazy. She wishes to withdraw us from the Capital. I know the argument that caused this is over you.” She looks up at him then. “I just have a very awful feeling. I should be happy that she wants to take me away from here. I have always wanted to leave but I don’t think I can leave you here. Not if they are planning to hurt you.” 

“You should leave. If they plan on doing what I think they are, then it is not safe for you to be here either. Especially if you care for me.” He takes a deep breath. “That way you will finally be able to climb that tree.”

“I am being serious here.” Hermione snips at him but he can tell it's because she is worried for him. 

“As am I.” Harry tries to smile. “Get out there in the world Hermione, figure things out from more than just your books.” 

Her eyes danced around the room, to the door and she lowered her voice. “What if I brought you with me? What if we both ran? I love McGonagall but if we took you with us we would be in danger, and I would still be in the service. I can never grow and learn as we have talked about if I’m always shut up somewhere. If we run far you could live normally. We could see the forests and the oceans.” 

Harry covers her mouth with his hand as he listens to the shuffling that is in the hall.

“Don’t say things like that.” He makes his voice as stern as he can make it. “If they hear you, it really could put you into danger. They think I am going to end the world or something because a viscus version of a spirit or god of death is connected to me.” 

She blinks a few times. “A god of death,” Hermione whispers softly. “I’ve read about a couple…which one was named.” 

“Vold-morte, something like that.” Harry sighs. “I have known the mark as the Grim for as long as I can remember. The townspeople said that it just meant that I was destined to die and cause misfortune. I would rather go back to that.” 

She nodded slowly as if realization has dawned on her at last how dire this situation is. “They would definitely chase us if we ran. They would… they really want to kill you… if something like that is involved. But even if it is, vessels need to be willing.”

“Now you are getting it.” Harry’s eyes drifted again to the door. “I don’t think that this thing would need permission, it seems the scar on my head is enough. I also might have talked to it when I was very small. I don’t know what I agreed to.”

“There has to be a way to break the curse besides death, or whatever ritual they think could take your life.” Hermione stood determination blazing in her eyes. “I will come up with a solution to save you.” 

~/*\~

It's a bold statement to tell someone that you are going to save their life. Hermione though has a shot she wants to think, she just has to find something that would be useful. A sure-fire way to regardless of curse or not break a connection between someone and Death or give them an advantage over it. She didn’t need to make Harry immortal, she didn’t need to stop him from dying. She just needed a way to break the contract between the two. She pours over the tombs that she can get her hands on and avoid others' eyes. She probably does look suspicious poking around the older selves. She makes sure that none see her taking out small maps and other things that would be useful. 

Mcgonagall finds her a day later in the morning despite her best efforts to try and stay unnoticed and researching. She hasn’t found anything yet, but that doesn’t mean that she is willing to give up. She can’t not yet. Harry is still locked up and as long as he is there and safe for now she has time. 

“Hermione.” She levels her with her gaze. “Come with me so that we can talk.” 

Hermione feels a lecture coming the second that the door is shut behind her and they enter the small office. 

“I know that you overheard me talking to Head Priest Dumbledore.” She sits behind her desk. “I also know that you have taken a liking to the Potter boy. I am deeply sorry for the actions that Albus plans to enact. There is however little that we can do to change that outcome. I plan on retiring from the service, and I would like you to come with me. There is much magic that I can teach you, that I couldn’t here. Reassignment would only be our ticket away from here. Serving no longer has the meaning that it had before. I greatly disagree with things that are in the works under Godric’s line.”

She has wanted to learn magic for a long time. She has wanted to wander, but even as wonderful as it sounds she can not help but picture Harry smiling at her. The first person to ever seem to want to hear what she has to say. The first person that has really called into question her faith and made her think. She can not follow the people around her blindly anymore. Not that Mcgonagall is asking this of her. 

Hermione bits the inside of her cheek. She looks at the woman that she has always looked up to, respected. Her only mother-like figure and a lifeline. And she loves her, she really does. She might not have been the kindest but she had always cared for her. She wants to keep her safe, but she also wants to ensure that Harry is too. 

“I can’t leave someone to die, cursed, or otherwise. I was taught that being a servant was to be brave. What if this is my trial, my task. Harry is a good soul, I know it. And I can’t leave him to die or be corrupted by whatever dark that will befall him and push him that way.”

“Is that your decision.” McGonagall asks her softly, “there can be other options. Other things that you could dedicate your time and possible life to.”

“Nothing is worth more than helping the innocent. I know that he seems like a stranger, but he has become my friend, and I know that I can and have to help him.” 

The older woman rises from her seat and hugs her close to her. It is in a move that is much more loving and out of character for her. She holds her tightly and then let's go, her older face soft and Hermione realizes just how old that she really is. She had never looked that old or that vulnerable. She has always looked so composed, so strong, but she supposes that even adults could show weakness. Even someone as powerful as McGonagall got scared. 

“I am truly proud of you for wishing to do what is right.” She breaths into her hair. “I will help you. Know though that if you do choose to do this, that we can not see each other again. As it would place us both in danger. None can know that I have helped you.” She holds Hermione’s arms gently, looking into her eyes. “You are much stronger than you know, you must continue to be brave. I will make an opening for you tonight. You will take the boy though the catacombs out into the street. Stick to the shadows, and leave through the west gate there is water that flows out of the city where it will help cover your tracks.” 

Herminoe stands up as straight as she can. “I should pack then.” 

“Yes, finish your packing, if anyone asks you are simply gathering things for our planned transfer. When the last bell for mass chimes, take Harry.”

Hermione swiftly packs her things, as she does so she can not help but notice an all but sees a black robe peak around the corner. Her cover for sure has been blown... 

~/*\~

Harry lays half asleep on the mattress. He knows that his days are winding down. There is little time left, as the ritual will take place on the coming of the full moon. Moon shape and shade always held power, his mother had told him such. He stares at the slit for a window. He can not make out the sky well but he knows that it must be coming. 

His door is violently swung open and Hermine stands there, dressed in a traveling gown and holding a staff. She is breathing heavily and looking behind her. “We need to leave now. I wanted to tell you earlier but it was too risky.” 

He takes a couple of seconds to have his mind click on and ultimately scrambles to take the clothes that he has and the carving tools he tosses the soap into the mix only because it could provide usefulness and follows her out into the hall. She isn’t very quiet, he can hear her steps and her breathing, as she takes them deeper into the complex rather than up. 

“Hermione we're going down, what are you doing?” 

She shushes him as she taps at the floor by the dead-end that she has led them too. She focuses her magic, he can feel the slight light tones of it drifting in the air like a bird song or a slight breeze. It's hardly noticeable but is almost calming to feel brush against his skin. The stone moves and they descend into darkness, the only light that gleams from Hermione’s staff’s small blue crystal. The Stone seals them down there. 

“We needed to take the crypts.” She whispers her hand taking his. There are shadows that shift in the darkness, Harry does feel that all too familiar presence behind him, around him, though he sees no spirts or hears no wails. There is the sound of people yelling above them, they are living and they are no doubt searching.

“It's easy to get lost down here.” Hermione seems to be talking to herself more than him. “I need to take a right, left, left, and then a right.” 

He helps her to navigate and there comes as rumbling, he can feel it shake the stones above them. “Hermione.” 

“There are a few other openings.” Her breathing picks up. “They are already looking for us down here.” 

It is then he knows that she is scared and they are moving to slow. He takes the lead. Left, then Left again. There is a quick right that takes them to a more narrow space, it's warmer, he can smell the rot of old bones and mold. He dares not let go of Hermione's hand as he presses on through the stench of it, and the cobwebs. There is the sound of scraping and echoed shouts behind them. 

They move twisting down the path till it ends and there is no direction to go but up. The stone is hard to shift, its heavy and Harry has to leave all the things to Hermione and squint to try and get a better grip and push. The bones of a person under him crunch as he puts more weight on the small platform beneath his feet that acts as a shelf for a body. There is light, he can see it, the faint light from perhaps lanterns. He pushes harder and it lifts upward. He then shoved it over to a narrow opening. 

“They are coming.” She whispers as he looks down at her and he can see the faint lights down the tunnel that are similar to Hermione's.

“Give me the things.” He demands and after a moment she complies. He tosses them up and then climbs out of the hole. 

Hermione throws up her staff and then tries to get out of the hole as the yelling starts and it's obvious that they are coming quickly now down the tunnel to stop them. She slips and shouts at him to help her as someone grabs her from behind and she kicks and twists trying to get them off of her. She is halfway in and out of the hole now. 

It would have been easy to let her go, but even if it means he doesn’t survive this. He knows the risks that she has gone through to help him.

“Hold on.” He tells her letting go of her arm as she cries louder. He picks up her staff and slams it into the man that is grabbing her. his face makes a cracking sound by the blow. He lets go and Harry slides the heavy stone right back into place, using the large stick as a wedge. He can hear cursing as the man's fingers are crushed under the block. 

“Get up.” He tells her frantically and she grabs their things quickly and they start to run. “Which way he demands.” 

“Right.” She stumbles behind him and he again grabs her wrist to tug her quickly along. “Another right.” 

They disappear into the dark, twisting down alleys and towards the west. Where Hermione stops them. There is nothing but silence around them. It's eerie and Hermione pushes against some of the old gratings that is to a waterway. The old bar gives and they take the thin tunnel out. 

Hermione blinks when they are though, she looks up at the many trees that tower in the distance and laughs quietly. Harry can not help but join her. For a moment they just look at the towering walls behind them, catch their breaths, and then take their first steps towards the woods as no longer two near-strangers but good friends.


	4. The Fates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh been too long.

A figure stands high in the trees looking down upon the forest floor. They slip their feet off of the large branch and sit, letting the moonlight grace their long blond hair that is almost white in nature, like the starlight her wolf always says. She feels the breeze and knows that summer is ending, she can smell it almost the changing of the season with what has already started to die, and wilt. Her tree though stands as large and as powerful as ever. The heart of the forest it towers overall, the roots deep into the earth, a maze of thick tendrils and sharp bark. It's Home. It's always been home. Things live in it from the top of it to the very bottom underneath it. Its life as it makes saps, and leaves that are of use to all in medicines. She swings her legs and feels the hardness of the wood.

One day, one day nearing she will be buried underneath it. Her body used for nutrients for the very things she climbs and treads over. It is a beautiful thing to think of if not a little sad. Just a little. She knows when the time comes she would have lived a good life, a strong life, of not a short one. 

It's almost the full moon. She knows what comes with that moon for she has dreamt it. She has dreamt many things. She is like the seers of old, though none have particularly liked the gift. the future is such a fickle thing, yet holds so much promise. He would be coming her way soon. The boy she has met once, but hundreds in her dreams. The cursed one, marked one, son of stag and Cardenal, the grim's chosen. He would be with the girl as well. Daughter to none, healer, Lightbringer, and religious devoted. With them, she would make a party of 3 and there would come their fourth. She cannot tell him to befriend or foe, for what she has seen in him is darkness and she does not know if it will overtake him, or if he can be saved if he will spell the end. 

Yes the future and past, paths that tangled like the roots to her trees, and strands of hair on her head. She looks forward to seeing how they unwind.

~/*\~

It is a long walk out into the woods. Hermione stumbles in the dark, but they have to keep moving. Harry is absolutely right in his assumption that they must go further and that they must be quick about it. She focuses her magic into her staff, she has not had much practice with it, however, she knows how to do some of the more basic spells. Light is one of the simplest and since it is not bright, it is not incredibly useful for finding their way. But it is a lot better than nothing but the pale near-full moon above them. They walk straight for a very long time, just trying to stick to easier path that is not the road and gain as much distance as time will allow. They would search the city first and then come with dogs perhaps outside of it. If they were desperate enough. She can not claim to know just how desperate that they will be.

“Which way are we headed?” She asks him because she doesn’t know where they should go, nor where it would be safest to travel towards. “I have a map if we need, we're heading east now.” 

He turns to face her and shrugs. “For now I think that making it as far northeast as possible is favorable. There is a war down south and the west has been sending forces and is most connected with the capital.” 

She can agree with that assessment, but if they are to travel the way that he is suggesting they will run into the Withered Woods and there were a lot of things that were far from friendly that lurked there. Not that she wants to bring up her fear of entering the lands riddled with Dark magic. She doesn’t really know if it could be considered ‘Dark’ anymore. It probably just was just magic that was completely different than hers, with things that were misunderstood and probably starving and wanting to eat them. After what feels like an eternity she finds herself hardly able to move. Logically she knows that it really couldn't have been all that long. But nothing could have prepared her for this, yes she ran the halls of their church, but she never walked this far or over something that was not flat. Harry was taking them deeper and deeper into the forest. The sun had come back out again and she could rest her magic, but her feet hurt. They really hurt, and she has a horrible feeling that her shoes are not made for this activity. She struggles to keep up with Harry that makes it all seem so effortless. He has been doing this forever, and the most that she has been doing is standing or sitting at a desk for long hours. 

He looks over at her and his green eyes soften. “If you need to rest we can.” 

“I am good.” She stubbornly denies it. She will not have her friends' safety put into jeopardy because she is slowing them down. He turns back to the path ahead and then just plops himself down on one of the nearest rocks. 

“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard, I know that you are unused to travel. If you get hurt because of not taking the proper precautions we're going to be in a lot worse of a place than if you rest, and we continue to cover ground at a decent pace.”

“I suppose.” She bites her lip hard before sitting. She feels the exhaustion fill her the second that she does and her bones seem to melt, as she never has felt so relieved to be sitting and have something under her to hold her. 

Harry smiles a little smugly as he has gotten what he wants. “I know that you packed things, but we might want to get rid of anything that might also be dead weight.” 

Hermione considers him before placing the rather large pack down. Harry who has been using a bed sheet with the things he gathered lays his down. “Could we possibly make another bag out of this sheet, that way we could distribute the weight?” 

She feels at the fabric. “Yes, but it would take me a while.” 

He nods, “If you have the tools I will begin work on it. We’ll rest about an hour and start moving again.” 

“It’s in the repair kit I bought.” She takes the pack off and pulls out a few items and then passes it over with the scissors. 

~/*\~

Hermione didn’t bring things that wouldn’t be useful; she had brought all very practical things, nothing that Harry would have felt comfortable tossing out. He does feel that eventually, they would have to pick up something that would work well for sleeping in, as there were extra clothes but when things got cold a blanket would be useful. She also has packed in a very condensed manner, he cannot fault her on anything but perhaps the larger tomes she has brought. He doesn’t know how to read, but they are heavy. 

He figures that once they do get two bags going that it will be much easier to distribute the weight especially some of the things like the pot, food, and books. Spirits knew that he wouldn’t be able to use anything in those things should they get separated. 

The biggest issue Harry finds in the few days of their journey is not Hermione's inability to walk as much as he does, or the amount of food. It's the lack of weapons, particularly a usable knife. The one that Hermione has packed is not suited for defense nor is it suited for much else than perhaps cutting a thin vegetable, it would not be useful in carving himself the arrows that he so desperately needs nor would it be good for actually making a rudimentary bow. He can make perhaps with the supplies a slingshot, but that is not as useful for catching things to eat as a bow would be. Not even close, if they were in a fight, wild animal or person alike they would be dead.

~/*\~

It's endless. Herminoe is convinced that the forests go on forever, they do not stop for long. It's been 3 days and she feels like everything hurts, she does not want to carry her bundle anymore. She is tired for at night she doesn't sleep, she misses her bed and the feeling of not having something on the ground digging into her back. She had chosen this, she has to keep reminding herself. She chose to help Harry. It was the right thing to do, of course, she can not regret saving a life. It was part of her very soul to want to help others, but she didn't ever imagine that it would be this hard. She finds she misses quite a lot about home, not that it's a home that she can go back to, there is nothing that can await her there but punishment and perhaps even Death if the magistrate thought that she had helped something evil escape. Even if the excuse could be made that she was bewitched. Not that she would lie about Harry like that.

They break by a large stream and it takes all that is in her not to just rush it and start drinking, she knows things in the water that has not been boiled first can have things in it that can make a person sick. The pain of watching the pot boil the water and waiting for it to cool is long and aggravating.

"I am sorry." Harry breaks the silence as small bubbles start to form in the water. "this can not be what you wanted when you said you wanted to travel."

"It's not what I had in mind no." Hermione agrees easily, "I however would not change my decision." She tries to reassure. And she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She knows what was at stake. 

He smiles at her for it and grips her hand lightly. “I really appreciate having you with me Hermione, I probably would have gotten lost without you.”

“And I certainly wouldn't have had as even made it this far without you Harry.” Hermione disagreed. She knows he is the one that has saved her in a way. Exposed her to what really was possible, corruption of her order, worse than she originally thought. 

“Well, I am still happy not to be alone.” Harry shifts. “It's really my first time ever thinking that. Besides Padfoot, I never really connected with anyone or anything.” 

“Padfoot?” She chuckles at the name. 

“My dog.” Harry smiles slightly before it falls. “Part of the reason that everyone believes this nonsense about me being marked by the grim. He was such a good dog, even if he was big and black.”

“But why the name Padfoot?” She tries to bring the mood back up. Hoping that if she pushes Harry will smile again. It warms her heart for some reason when she sees it. 

“Because he was very quiet on his feet alright?” Harry’s face heated, “and I named him when I was small. He was with me after everything that happened with my parents being killed.”

Hermione grips his shoulder lightly. “I am sure Padfoot is doing alright, dogs are smart animals.”

“He was pretty smart.” Harry agreed.

~/*\~

Walking continues and the sky starts to darken faster than expected. There is the creeping of the moon through the sky. There is probably not enough time to find much of a campsite. Harry though is determined to find them a place that is decently sheltered as it does look like rain is threatening, far over the horizon. A storm. The overcast sky sends a slight chill through the air. Chill that Harry does not want to feel against his tired body if he can help it. Hermione’s thin light from her staff gives some light to the darkening space around them. It’s going to become pitch black soon and they will really not be able to find their way. They haven’t been moving fast enough. The church would catch up with them for sure. 

“Harry we should probably rest for the night.” 

She is right of course, but if it starts to pour they will not have any shelter and he doesn’t fancy being soaked and cold. He might not catch his death the way he seems to be marked, but Hermione, he is unsure. They wander deeper into the trees and Harry has that feeling again. It sends the hair on his arms up even more than the cold. 

The forest has grown silent. Which is never a good sign. Hermione notices it too. Her staff is clutched tighter to her. 

“Harry…” She whispers.

“Shhh.” He shushes her. He needs to listen. The place has magic, even if he doesn’t have the greatest grip on magical abilities he can sense the shifting of the trees and the way that it's saturated. Unnatural… The air is heavy and there is the smell of rotting meat and iron. A kill of some animal is up ahead and usually, predators did not travel too far from it. 

“Harry.” Hermione squeaks and he can not blame her. He can see the slight staining on the leaves near them. 

Death. It is around them. His scar gives a warning pulse, and he grits his teeth. A howl comes from not too far in the distance. His eyes narrow, peering at the trees around them. There is the sound of growling and Harry picks up the nearest stick and stands in a more defensive position. 

“Hermione, do you see any trees that would be high and easy to climb?” 

She shakes her head, “there was that more rocky bluff not far back, but it's getting dark and….”

It would not be safe. Harry knows that is what she was going to say, but it's not safe here either. He takes her hand and they run. There is something large and furry chasing after them, crashing through the brush. It's big and brown and he can hear its heavy breathing as he skirts them around bends and towards the rocks. 

The ground gives out from under them and they tumble, rolling down the steep hill. Harry feels the ground slam into him and the thorns of bushes bite into his arm. He stops at the foot of the hill. Hermione growing near him, her body banged up like his. He crawls over to her and shakes her, but she doesn’t move. Her head is bleeding, a shallow wound. The large creature’s outline is just viable above them. It looked like a large wolf, larger than any wolf that he had ever seen. It growls and paces around the ground above him. Though it doesn’t attempt to follow them down the way that they had fallen into the almost bowl of rock around them. 

He looks around him, there is water in pools with little islands. Clearer water than any that he has ever seen. It seems to shine in the moonlight. The trees are thinner here as the forest has almost pulled away from this spot so that there are tall grasses around them and small bushes. The trees that are present though are curved, large, and centuries old. He picks through the things that have fallen out of their bag and wraps Hermione's head with the bandages. He watches the wolf pace and as it is joined by another, and another. They are all massive. Creatures unlike he has ever heard of, their faces slightly balding and their limbs slightly longer than they should be. The more that he looks at them, the more he knows for sure that they are not normal wolves. One stands up slightly on its hind legs, gripping at one of the larger trees. 

He picks up their things and leans Hermione against himself moving away from the creatures that are starting to almost seem to dare themselves to start climbing down. Testing it with careful steps and hands that are able to grab like humans against the rocks and trees. Harry looks around trying to figure out the best way to go. 

There is a larger Tree located in the middle of this debit, towards one of the larger islands. Even the tree that seemed to be the heart of the forest he had seen before did not compare with this one. He could not see the top of it. Its roots were creating near branches up into the cliffs, and ramps all across the pools. All the older trees seemed to be connected with it. The more he moves the more he can see the way that they pile up into complex weaved structures. 

The not wolves disappeared and Harry doubts that he has seen the last of them. He pulls them under one of the many rooted structures as the rain starts to fall in fine sheets. Even with the cold, and being slightly damp. He dares not to start a fire in this place. There are small lights appearing around the pools, lights of flowers that are near crystal-like, blue glow. 

The rain picks up and the fog rolls in. 

“It is good to see you again. Harry.” He jumps turning to see the girl he had seen before. The one that he was sure was a spirit. “I did say that we would meet the next full moon.” Her blue eyes glitter. She wears warmer garments of fur and a hood that almost reminds him of fox ears. Her hair though is still that color of moonlight, and her feet are still bare. 

“How did you find me?” He can hardly believe that she is here. 

She shrugged. “That is such a silly question, I told you before that we would meet. I was meant to meet with you again.” 

“I don’t follow.” Harry sighed. “Do you have to speak in riddles?” 

“We have yet to meet little Riddle, but I suppose I could speak plainly.” She shifts closer and flicks him on the forehead. “I am Luna, I am a proud descendant of the Fates. This is my home, and the great spirits told me that I would meet you. It is my duty to help you on your quest.” 

Harry laughs, in disbelief and exhaustion. “And this quest that you mentioned before… is it to help me flee the country?”

“It's to help free your soul.” Luna looks at him through long lashes and half-lidded eyes. Her voice is almost like a dream or bird song. “You do not wish to become the vessel to end the world, and I do not wish for the world to end.” 

The loud Howl near them makes Hermione bolt upright. Her eyes alive and frantic in the lights of the blue glowing flowers. She looks at Luna like she is some godly being, wonder, and awe. Harry’s eyes dart around to see if he can see anything is coming, but the place is silent but the rain hitting the thick branches around them. 

“Are you the goddess?” The former church scribe asks quietly. 

Luna laughs and it is the sound of wind chimes, musical bells. Soft, breathy, and warm like the spring. 

“Umm her name is Luna.” Harry tries to introduce. “She is a friend.”

Luna bounces slightly with that title. “It is wonderful to meet another chosen.” Luna grabs Hermione's hands with her own. “You are seeking to help Harry free his soul too!” 

Hermione’s eyes flick to Harry and back. “Do you know of objects that are tied to Death? I was looking into them before we had to flee.” She tries to take her hands back from the fate. 

“No. I don’t know much about them but I know who will know.” Luna sighs. “We just have to wait a few hours till he is back to normal.” 

“Back to normal?” Hermione gasps. “You don’t mean that thing that was chasing us do you?” 

“Don’t call Moony that.” Luna narrows her eyes slightly, voice slightly cold. “He has low self-esteem as it is. It is not his fault that he was cursed.” 

“He is a werewolf.” Harry blurts putting it all together. “The wolves we saw all were.” 

The blond nods standing. “Yes, perhaps though we should talk in a more warm place and wait for the sun to rise. They will not purposely hurt you if you are with me. But I can't promise that they will not lose control either.”

Luna brings them to the base of the tree and under its roots. It's dry there, and there is cover. There are houses built into it, bridges of rope, and balconies. It's one of the most beautiful things that Harry has ever seen. A wooden village, just above the water below. Carved wooden structures that would have taken years to make, detailed, and with symbols and unreadable words.

“My ancestors built this place. The fates, we used to have travelers and adventurers come to seek our wisdom. That was before the rain of Godric and Slytherin's line.” Luna explained as they walked. Hermione looked around her fascinated and seemed to want nothing more than to write everything down that she was seeing. 

“I thought that the fates were just a myth.” Hermione didn’t seem to know where to look. “The architecture is amazing, is this all still living?” 

“We became like legends, rare like mythical creatures,” Luna says softly, sadness lining her tone. “Once this place had hundreds of women, children, spirits. We crafted, traded, and shared the knowledge that the divine had given us.” They came to the part of the tree that was burned, the bark destroyed and there was deep damage. “Then the church came.”

Hermione froze and Harry felt his gut sinking as there were skulls that lined the base of the tree, under the water he could see other bones. 

“They bore torches, weapons, and magic. They killed nearly everyone. The trees suffered, the land shriveled and the great spirits left.” Luna touched the tree and small glowing lights drifted off of the bark. The bugs blinked and brushed against her hair. “The darkness swept in, death, and creatures of olden times.” 

“How could the church do this?” Hermione shook. “We have no military force.”

Harry would think the better question was why. Why would anyone want to kill hundreds of people? What possibly could justify it? 

“The same way that drove my parents and others like them from practicing I would imagine,” Harry said dryly. The tightness in his chest did not lessen looking at Luna. She stood still in the shadow of the death of her kind, one of the few left. A pretty creature of light and fate. “They just needed to convince people that it was sinful.” 

Luna’s eyes were downcast at the dirt. “We speak only the truth, we can not lie. Some people do not like the truth that we speak for it does not fit their views.” 

Harry moves forward and rests his hand on her shoulder, he does not know what to say so he doesn’t say anything other than he is sorry. Sorry that he people were treated this way. She smiles warmly at him, and it feels warm inside just seeing it. Hermione shifts a little her staff bringing about more fireflies. 

It is in the company of the fading traces of rain, the smell of damp wood. That Hermione, Harry, and Luna talk about their respective childhoods and about their religions. 

Luna’s culture were minimalists, they lived off the land and gave back to it. Life was precious to them and only was one to take a life if they were to use every part of it. It was why her clothes were worn, and they were of furs and silks made from spider webs. Her people spoke the truth and sought it in the divine and ancient spirits. Ones of forests and stars. Hermione’s Order and the church drifted more towards a goddess that loved and cared for all living things, and it was the people’s job to follow her teachings and spread it. And well Harry told of how his parents would practice communing with nature, and give back to the earth. He and Luna were connected in that way, the old ways. 

It was how they formed an understanding that each cared greatly about life, that each wanted to take care of other people. And all came to the conclusion that something had to be done if Vold-Morte was really located in Harry’s scar. 

It is dawn when there is life among the other structures. Harry can hear the sounds of songbirds, the twittering and clicking of frog and cricket. The soft smell of rain and moss. The wet earth feeling harsh against his feet. The cold seeping in slightly through the old leather. He is exhausted, more tired than he thought possible as he blinks away the sleepiness. 

“Moony!!!” Luna rose quickly to greet a man that was coming up the path. He had ragged clothes and long marks across his face. The wolf from the night before, had been given human shape once more. He did not smile as he looked beyond Luna that latched tightly onto him. 

“My dear Moonbeam,” He greeted. “The others are coming along.” 

Luna nodded enthusiastically. “Harry is here, the one I told you about. The one from my many dreams.” 

Hermione raised one eyebrow at Harry and shared the look with her. He had not mentioned Luna’s little dream walk as she called it. Hermione still was skeptical of the idea that Luna actually could see the future. 

“Harry you say.” The sharp brown eyes look at him. “You would not happen to know of Lily and James?” 

Harry’s heart swelled and his voice left him from a tight throat. “They were my parents.” 

There is suddenly a very large smile on the man’s face. “Then we have much to discuss.” 

~/*\~

Moony’s real name is Remus Lupin. He is a soft-spoken man that is quick to make tea. It is hard to picture him being over six feet and covered in mangy hair. A werewolf is not something that Hermione ever thought that she would meet. The Order dealt with them wherever they sprung up, providing Godric’s forces with the needed weapons to subdue one. 

She feels uneasy in his presence, wolves were strong even if they were not in their other physical form. They had advantages that came with being part canine. Advanced hearing, smell, and strength to name a few things. He though is not like the things she has heard, he is not snapping at them. He is not raging or quick to anger, even if he did scold Luna for bringing them here. Chosen or not Lupin put the safety of their little establishment of wolf seriously. 

And upon looking at Remus’s little group of people. She can say that they are all close to humans. She watches him over her teacup and feels her hands shake with knowing, knowing how others like him were slaughtered. Knowing that Luna’s family was dead. 

Luna had headed out to do her chores and the house felt empty without the girl's presence. She was a powerful magical being, someone unlike any that Hermione had ever encountered. Beautiful really, and before she had come to her senses she had for a second thought that she might be her Goddess. 

“Let us skip the rest of the pleasantries, now that we are acquainted.” The man folds his hands in front of himself. His hands don’t have claws or even long nails. He catches her eyes. “Luna is a special girl I am sure that you have realized.”

“She is the last of the Fates.” Harry brings the tea closer to himself. “We saw the skeletons.” 

“Yes she is special in that regard too I suppose.” Remus sighs. “No, what I was saying was that she loves to help people, cares far too much, seeks the benefit of others over herself. I am worried about her if she wishes to leave with you. The quest to free yourself Harry will not be an easy one, and Luna is not wise in the ways of the world. She knows enough not to trust just any human, but naive enough to think she can change them.” 

“Luna mentioned that you might be able to help us. She said that you might know about some objects. I am not really sure what they are…” Harry trailed off. “Hermione mentioned them.” 

“Death had objects in the legends to find them is to concur him.” Hermione tries to break it down to the simplest of levels. “They called these objects the Deathly Hallows. I don’t even know if they exist but if they do they seem like our best bet to help Harry.” 

“Yes, Luna told me that you would be after the legendary artifacts.” Remus lets out a deep sign that sounds sad. “There are many that have sought them, some even found them and received a fate far worse than Death for messing with them.” 

She got a very bad chill thinking of it. 

“Be that as it may sir we need them. I do not wish to be the vessel for that thing to come into this world. I am not even sure that I really carry that much of a connection to him. But if there is any chance that I am going to kill people, I am going to cause destruction. I would like a chance to try to live before I take matters into my own hands if I need to.`` Harry says stubbornly and Hermione wishes that she had his courage. 

She doesn’t like how firmly he is saying that he would make an alternative. She hates what the church would have done, but she doesn’t want to use the excuse that they actually knew for sure that something was in Harry’s scar to be the reason that he died. They never confirmed it… They were near sure but still… She doesn’t want anything to happen to him. She had left everything behind for him. One of the few people that have ever been caring to her. 

Remus let out a growled laugh. “Just like your parents. Brave to the end. They did not bow to the darker forces either. I will help you.” 

He stood and he led them to a room that was more towards the damaged place under the tree. The water flowed a little into the room, to tiled floors that glowed with arrays that she had not seen before. They climbed some stairs to a room that had a skylight and carved stone pedicles. The stars would have been amplified here by the way the crystals were placed. Remus takes down an old rolled scroll and places it where there is the best lighting. 

It's a map and Harry at least knew how to read those. Remus then takes another piece of parchment and a quill. 

“There are 3 objects that belong supposedly to Death.” Remus draws a small diagram.

“The wand.” He draws out a single line. 

**I**

“The stone.” He covers that with a curve. 

**( l )**

“And the cloak.” He finishes that pattern with a nice angle. 

**／（Ｉ） \**

“These are the symbols combined to make the owner of all 3 artifacts the one true master of death. They have been scattered across the world.” Lupin’s eyes seem to glow a brighter brown near gold with some magic. “Your father, Harry owned one at one time. The cloak, which is crafted from death’s very robe. It was taken from him when they cared for it that night. It was moved, rumor has it, here.” He circled the Withered Woods. 

“Who came for them,” Harry demanded. His voice became loud raw with emotion. 

“The Death Eaters. They were looking for the artifacts. Sirius and I tried to track down the man that would have sold your parents out. We were unsuccessful, and in my search I found Luna.” His eyes fogged over and he is just suppressing what seems to be tears. “Dear little Luna among the leaves, frightened and alone.” 

“Uncle Sirius.” Harry cut the thoughts off, “What happened to him? He was my Godfather wasn’t he?It's because he wasn’t around that I had to live with the Dursleys.” 

Lupin shakes his head much like a dog. “I don’t know what happened to Sirius. I know that after months of searching with him, he was going to make sure that Dumbledore made good on his promise. He was returning to Westwood the last letter I received from him.” 

“High priest Dumbledore.” Hermione cut in. “What does he have to do with all this?” 

“He is head priest now?” Remus tilts his head. His eyes narrow. “How long was he in such a position? He was climbing a decade ago, his goal was to try and put an end to our people’s prosecution. He was to try and stop the hate that was building against the fates.” 

“Since before I was born.” Hermione blinked her eyes, becoming wide. “No he could not have ordered it… he isn’t a perfect man, but there is no way…” 

“He said that the Fates were near wiped out by now,” Harry recalls. 

Remus shook and there is the faintest sound of inhuman growling mixed with his cursing. Hurt floods her, she can pick up on some traces of emotions as they could be tied with magic. 

“There is nothing that you could have done.” Hermione reaches out. “You took care of Luna, he didn’t succeed. The fates live on through her.” 

“Werewolves are hunted.” Harry cuts in as well. “You could not have done anything, without putting yourself into harm's way.” 

The werewolf's breathing becomes normal. “It's just... “ He trails off and Hermione feels Harry hugging them together. 

“Remus, do you think you could tell me more about my mother and father before we chase after these artifacts?” 

“Of course.” Remus chokes out, overcome with emotion. “Of course Harry.” 

**~/*\~**

Remus talks with him for hours about how his parents, Sirius, and Peter had been of the few people that were kind to him considering what he was. A condition that he had since he was five years old. They had all grown up together, leaned magic together, and were tied to the old way. They had started investigating disappearances that had been happening a few towns over with the small congregation. The cult responsible was a Death cult that were cultivating souls to use in experiments. Grindlewald had been gaining power through harvesting souls, and building himself an undead army. His goal to become immortal and those that followed him were promised the same reward. Never to age, never to die. They worshiped a god of death that fed off violence. In exchange for their sacrifices, they were given knowledge. But they could not ever control such a creature and so they went in search of artifacts. The same ones that Harry needed. 

His parents had helped to lock Grindlewald away, a person like him could never really be killed, not with creations of soul containers. Dumbledore was tasked with finding these Horcruxes or singular Horcrux. The cult had retaliated. The Potters had gone into hiding, wanting to live normally with their soon to be born son. Harry can guess the rest. The cult was able to catch up with them and happened to be able to seal back one of the artifacts that his father had taken for safekeeping. 

Remus is desperate to know him. He has been living with Luna, keeping her safe, and her when he was in his wolf form. The few others that have found their group were in similar situations. Werewolves were hunted by the church and driven from their homes. There are 20 of them total. And even if Harry would have loved to have known Lupin, grown up with him he understands. He really does. 

There is a joy to be had in this place, and part of him wants to stay here longer. Hermione is digging through the old writings with invigoration that she had been lacking the past few days. But he knows that they can not stay. Luna seems to know more than she lets on for the reason behind that. And Harry wonders if they are a danger to these people, he wouldn’t want to lead the church back to them nor Godric’s forces. 

He sighs dipping his feet into the water. Luna is upon one of the twisted roots, looking far into the distance as if the sky and wind were telling her some sort of story. 

Hermione was in the small library, she was determined to learn more about these objects or clues where things besides the invisibility cloak would look like. The stone was for resurrection and through the pages, she had found the shape of it, but not the size. The wand is anyone's guess still, able to amplify magic past anyone's wildest dreams. 

He is itching to get moving, even if this is safe enough, and it is nice not to sleep on the hard ground. It is nice to have food. He watches Tonks, a young woman that seems to be able to shapeshift, stab one of the many fish with a spear. There were many pools here, and only certain ones could be used. The ones closest to the tree were off-limits. Harry had seen something that looked like a serpent tail move around the bones and had not been confident enough to ask Luna what it was. 

**~/*\~**

“We should leave soon,” Luna tells him over dinner that night. “The air is shifting and if we are to meet the last member of our party we must cross the Beninee River by next moon.” 

“Last party member?” Harry blinked. 

“I can’t tell you how long he will be with us, nor if he really is friend or foe. But he is the one that knows how to get the cloak.” Luna taps her check and Harry wonders if she had been dream walking to get this information. 

That is all Harry needs to know though. “Does this person have a name?” 

“Yes.” Luna smiled. “But I think it would take the fun out of it to tell you his name.” 

**~/*\~**

The boy in the hood throws his bag to the ground and a small part of a human arm bone sticks out. He scrambles to fix it. Putting it carefully back in and tying it more tightly shut. 

“Sorry.” He clinched the bag closer to himself as his cat rubs against his leg. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He had checked all over the countryside. There were few places left to check. There is a crunch of a stick and Nagini lets out a loud hiss. 

He draws his knife and stands in his protective stance, in front of the bag on the ground. Drawing with his toes a circle into the ground around him. The brush bends back and the deer's face pokes out. He takes one short breath or relief till he notices that it is missing the flesh around its neck. 

“Someone else is playing the divine.” He tells Nagini and the cat's eyes flash green.


	5. The Death Bringer

He draws his foot up and swings the knife through the air as if it were cutting through something solid. His magic pulses against the ground, and through the earth. Creating a few rudimentary shields around himself and Nagini. The cat hisses and its black fur puffs up. She is not scared, just pissed. Her ears are pinned back and she is practically screaming at it to go away. He shifts his weight feeling the shifts to his magic, swirling, cooling, and tugging at the shadows. 

The thing retaliates by staring him down, the glow of intent in the exposed socket is far from intimidating, even if it is full of malice. He could if he is given a chance to touch it with his blade unmake it. Still, it's definitely dripping, saturated dark magic, and getting close enough in order to break it, is not exactly a safe option. He could easily be bitten and that sort of rot was the kind that would for sure cause illness. It opens its mouth and the remaining muscle stretches with it. 

Nagini lowers herself into a striking position. 

“I know, I know.” He tells her and her eyes dart to him and then sweep back to their foe. They are linked. She is feeding him nothing but negative feedback through their bond borrowing some magic if she needs to flee. She would not be much help in this fight. Not that she was much use in any fight. She is his companion, the only one that he has, the only one that he needs. He will not let anything take her from him. Not like everyone else. Not life, Not death, and certainly not some messed up, a botched attempt at the noble art of bringing back the dead is going to take what he considers to be his. 

It lets out a very high whining noise. Something between a horse and a dog, it's gargled as it doesn’t have the proper vocal cords. Insects crawl up from under the Deer’s hooved feet. Its intestines hang out as it shakes off the branches lodged there. 

He swishes again with the blade, forcing his intent and will forward. It slams into the creature and it stumbles back by the wave of shadows that crashes into it. He sends another and another in rapid succession, they carve into the creature's skin peeling back the rotting flesh and slicing deep into the bone. It charges and thrashes when the trap of his shield sends it flying backward and far up into one of the trees, impaling it. 

There is more coming, the insects are buzzing, and a crow is cawing loudly. The person that made these things has to be nearby. His lip curls with disgust. Mindless creatures, if he was to bring something back it would never be so worthless to only attack on sight. Animals of these woods are hobbling and dragging themselves closer to him. Such a cursed place are these withered woods, he doesn’t wish to spend another moment here with things that could count as inferi. 

Nagini moves to his side as the insects start to pile up outside of his array. He has no doubt that they would eat his skin off in seconds. 

This is a headache, he can't hold himself up in this array forever either. 

“Looks like we need to make a jump.” He tells his friend. Intelligent and magical green eyes blink slowly.  
Nagini paws at the bag. “Yes that is coming with, don’t take that tone with me.”

He bends down and picks up his bag. The cat climbing up onto his lowered shoulder. There is a rush of air, a pop, and the tunneling of shadows as they jump at least 30 meters away. Nagini rubs her face into his. He can feel the coolness to her as he brushes along her ears in gratitude. Such a wonderful, useful creature is she. 

Perfect for a thief like him. 

A perfect companion to someone that has lost everything else and wishes for nothing but comfortable solitude. 

“Do you fancy investigating?” He feels along her body to her tail. “That person might have something useful on them, even if they can’t bring back the dead properly.” 

_**NO.**_ She nips at his fingers before kissing them. 

“I didn’t particularly want to risk it either. Anyone that fortified is either hiding something really useful or is crazy and I doubt that will help us all that much in bringing…” 

The cat's eyes narrow at him slightly. 

“Never mind.” He lets out a deep breath, let’s just get moving. “ 

~/*\~

Harry knows that they need to leave soon. But sanctuary is such a rare and beautiful place at least in the daytime. Perhaps after his quest, he can come to live with Remus and the other Werewolves. Harry did not fancy wandering the earth away from safety on such a night as a full moon if he were to live here permanently, but otherwise, it was okay…. If and that was a big if he could ignore the voices in this place. 

The people here were not dangerous unless it was a full moon and they went far out to hunt as not to make any issues for those among them that weren’t, which really was just Luna, Tonks, and an older woman that spoke an odd language. The doors were warded and there were safe places to be when the moon was at full power. Remus assured them that the only other symptom besides going full wolf on the full moon was slight agitation in the few days leading up to it. Younger or older Werewolves might have needed a day to recover after. These people understood what it was like to be marked, cursed, for something that one could not help, and Harry for the first time in his life did not feel like a walking nuisance. None were angry with him, none hated him despite him never doing anything to them. No, Teddy wanted to play with him. The wolf cub or youngest member of the group wanted Harry to carry him, or help him to climb up into the trees. They had fished together in the off-time that Harry had taken to make his bow and arrows. 

He would need a suitable weapon in their travels. Luna assured him that he could have one of the obsidian daggers of her people as another layer of protection. Hermione had been horrified that Luna would even offer her one. She was still naive in some ways if she thought that her little bit of light magic would be enough to protect her at all times. It really wouldn’t be if Luna’s face had been anything to go by. And Harry, just by being around the half Fate, knew that her predictions seemed to be quite accurate as if she was in tune with time itself. 

They were planning to head out soon, and it was probably a good thing too. The voices were getting a little harder to ignore. He recognizes these signs, they are similar to the times that he had met ghosts in the woods, souls, or remnants of them leftover. This place, in some locations, he can hear nearly full sentences without the figures he sometimes sees. 

Terrible things had happened here, and no matter the purifying water around them nor the power of the ancient tree could remove the stain. The shadows around the base of the tree are always shifting. They seem to take shapes of the scenes that had happened there. They willed him closer and closer to the large scorch mark in the tree. He wonders if this will stop if he touches it or actually reach some sort of head. Sometimes giving into whatever a spirit was doing was best to get rid of it. But this place, where the bones were, he gets these horrible feelings. Some of them are so powerful that he feels sick. The air is saturated with emotions that are not his and sometimes just watching the twisting shadows is enough to make him want to cry. Whatever spirits were here were upset, angry, vengeful, and mournful. There were so many emotions the closer he got to the worst of the scar. 

He finds himself drawn to it, today more so than the others. The tree stands before him, the long branches becoming bare in the cooler air. Each shift in the wind brings new voices and hushed whispers in their chorus. 

_Help!_

_Please no!_

_My baby… sob... my baby_

“Harry.” Luna takes his arm. “It will not help to touch it, I can feel it too. Not perhaps the way you do. But I can feel the damage that was done to this land, this place. There were such horrible things done here, there will always be a scar.” 

She leans her head against his arm, her pretty silky hair brushing his elbow. “There is a scar in you too. I am sorry about your parents.”

“You lost yours too,” Harry says before he can even think better of it. “Doesn’t that leave a scar in you too?” He finishes lamely. 

“Yes, it hurts sometimes, something awful. Sometimes all I want to do is cry. Sometimes all I want to do is hunt down the person that ordered it, took what mattered most to me. Do you feel that way too?” She asks softly as if this is a bad feeling to harbor. He feels like it would be if one was shouldering it alone. 

Harry nods. “All the time, but being incredibly angry or sad doesn’t really do anything.” 

“No, not really.” Luna agrees. 

They sit there under the tree and Harry listens to the voices. Luna’s presence is comforting, and he can close his eyes and think of better times, before the scar, before everything really. When there was just his mother, father, and Hedwig. And he can almost smile. 

~/*\~

Hermione is sad to leave the large library but she knew that they would be leaving, the moment that they had figured out that Harry’s soul was on the line, sacrifices would need to be made. They cannot sit still forever, not with the way that they are being hunted. She is sure that they have sent some sort of party. They had chased Harry back before they were certain. So they would only be even more inclined with a runaway servant of the house of the goddess. 

She wonders if the Church would send this Order that Remus claims they had. The ones that did the wicked deed that those rotting skull reminded her of each time she passed them. To her leaving remains like that was to leave them without rest. Luna argued that it was the way it had always been done. They would return to the earth when needed. Dust to Dust, Dirt to Dirt. Herminoe is familiar with the concept. Still, the skulls scare her, force her to look at the ugly things that her religion is responsible for…

There is little that she can do to change the past, what is done is done. She can only try to help with the future and that meant they needed to make sure that they were not traced back to those that would be in just as great a danger if not more should the church catch up with them. Hermione didn’t want to believe how far the corruption went. It was hard to keep faith when there were so many that misused it. 

It was hard to believe in the teachings of her church when there were those that were deliberately breaking the founding rules. She shut her eyes. Holding back the waves of emotions that were threatening to drown her at times. Lupin had mentioned the climb of Dumbledore, and she had seen his blue twinkling eyes turn cold for herself. There was something in the air of Hogwarts and In the city of Gryffindor. Something sick and twisted that had infected everything outside of its walls. She was starting to feel like there were no gallant knights left in the world, nor great churchmen. 

Severus would have liked to see her broken faith. He would have told her the veil had finally been lifted and now she could understand the true evils of man. She wanted still to cling to hope, for if there was no hope what was the purpose of life? What was she doing all of this for? 

Her magic was impacted by her doubt. Light magic was built on the faith in her goddess, her cause, her will to do good. She had a wish to do good. She had it in spades, but there is much in this world that she doesn’t understand. Despite her conflicting emotions, there was one thing that did not change. 

walking was awful. 

She didn’t think that it would ever get better any time soon.The only benefit was that she was able to cut down on the books they might need and store the ones she had loved, in a safe place she hoped one day to return to. Having Luna meant they all could share a bit of the weight and having a blanket or two will be probably useful. Still, her legs were not made for walking, she got shaky after hours, and her feet had blisters. Luna knew the forests better than anyone and was taking them backtracking towards the edge of the Withering Woods. They would need to meet up with someone there that would know about the cloak. Herminoe knew it wasn’t her place to judge, but she was not all that confident in visions. She gets that Luna is part fate. 

She gets that seeing the future is sort of an art for them… 

She just does not know if she could really trust the wind, dreams, and tea leaves left in cups. She always had believed in more concrete things, like sciences, math, and old texts. Though she might have to reevaluate the importance she places on the things that she reads, she is starting to note a bias in the church's writing that she had never seen before. 

Hermione though will not deny that this is probably still their best bet tea leaves leading the way or fate. The cloak was stolen by Death Eaters and they had last been active near the Withering Woods. They would probably find a clue in the nearby provinces. They just had to be careful about how they went about it. 

She doubted that Harry or Luna would be the most subtle of asking the questions that they needed. She doubted herself in that regard as well. She just didn’t have the people skills. 

~/*\~

It is nearly 2 weeks of walking, to reach the coast. The weary providence spread before them like a cemetery of grim faces and pale buildings. The place looked like it had been through a war the way people avoided each other and hurried about was disheartening. It was not so different from outside the gate. Not really, the thick wooden barrier is not very good for keeping anything with wings out. There was blood on the spikes. There were guards in watchtowers and a thickened fortified door. 

Luna had mentioned the marks in the wood that resembled claws and the footprints. There had been something almost rotten to the feel of the place. Hermione had said that the Goddess’s shire had been destroyed. No light to the dark of the trees, but that was to be expected. He didn’t think such a place would have any relief from the things that lurked in the dark. Luna was wary of their scent she called it, going as far as taking detours away from certain footpaths.

The seaside town was bathed in thick fog and salty air reminding Harry just how close that they were to the coast but instead of feeling like it was close to escaping onto open water it felt instead like the end of the world and that the town was isolated between the cliff's edge and the rising hills and trees. He sucked in the air and then breathed out slowly this was not going to be easy to track anything in the dense forest of fog. How were they to find the boy that was to help them? 

Harry has his doubts about this place. They did not have much money between them, and even less to trade. They had to travel light. This person that they were to meet, had to show quickly if they were really going to stay anywhere nice. 

The full moon would be upon them soon and with it the powers of the magically inclined. Not all of which were friendly people or creatures. The townspeople knew it. They were even more on edge it seemed because of the date. There were eyes on them, particularly Luna with her furs, the moment that they had stepped inside. She looked like she belonged to the earth, and they knew it too. They looked at her as if she was a spirit coming back to haunt them. Some looked at her with a little too much-wandering eyes. The guards had particularly taken note of her less than normal coverings. They looked at Hermione and the church's clothes and shook their heads, a godless, and hardened hearted populace. Harry wondered just how many clergies had made their way into this area with the promise to cleanse it, only to be killed or chased off after numerous failures. Then there was him. He had grown his hair a little out to try and cover his scar better. He wondered if he seemed like a deserter to these people or an adventure. He didn’t carry a guild badge but perhaps he could acquire one and that would save them should they get stopped. 

They would stay in the inn for 2 days. Harry knew they could afford it, and they could at least be safe from the truly monstrous things that even Luna was weary of. Hermione had no complaints of exchanging the older silver that Lupin had no use for or his people, being they were allergic to the stuff for rooms. They piled their things on the 2 beds and set about to explore what little the town had to offer. 

The innkeeper was a little too thrilled to make conversation with Luna, who was apparently older than Harry thought her to be. Way older… it didn’t seem possible her age. She played rather nicely into it, expressing the importance of her furs, as they were from her first important hunt and that's why she would not have traded them for anything. In exchange, the man mentioned that he had been collecting leathery bat wings from the monsters that flew over the wall. 

Judging by the wings that hung on his wall over the front desk. The bat-like creatures were a good 6ft. Harry had a feeling that he didn’t want to meet the bat like creatures. He was grateful that he had made a good number of arrows in the off chance that he had to shoot one. 

“Hey you, fox girl.” Someone motioned them over to their table. Luna tilted her head and stepped forward with no reluctance to the person that Harry could only describe as sleazy. He had little trinkets that sparkled in the sun with ruins carved on them. If anything Harry bet they were supposedly for protection. 

“Hello.” Luna smiled nicely at him. “Is there something that you needed?” 

“Your pelts. Where’d you get em. The teeth are dire wolf teeth ain't they around your neck?” His eyes were sweeping her form, for a lot more than the dress. Harry scowled, while Hermione was too preoccupied with inspecting the poorly crafted ‘amulets’ and rings. He could not feel magic on them, though sometimes just a symbol was enough with the power of belief behind it to drive smaller demons, and creatures away. 

The best weapon still in his opinion was a silver-tipped arrow to the head or a metal one with salt sprinkled on it. 

“Oh yes.” Luna nodded, her voice that dreamy far off one. “I have hunted many a beast and befriended many.” 

Harry made a move to grab his knife if needed. He would not have anything bad happen to Luna. Remus would never forgive him… 

“If you're lookin for beasts needing to be tamed may I offer a trade? I like teeth, good for medicine. I have a few things know to win over some of the more flying bat variety in the forests or offer some protection.”

“The teeth I wear are precious to me,” Luna replied in a firm tone, her hand moving to them. They seemed to shimmer in the sunlight with lightly painted carvings particularly standing out. 

“Of course there are other ways and other things to trade.” The older man put his hand on Luna’s hip, almost petting it. Harry stepped forward, but Luna smiled showing slightly pointed teeth that Harry had not seen before. 

“I have no interest in anything that you are selling.” 

She in one quick movement had her beautifully carved dagger to the man's throat. The movement was so quick that Harry didn’t have time to process what exactly was happening. One second she was at his side the next nearly over the corner. 

“If you even think to look at me or my friends like that again, you best be ready to spill blood.” 

It seemed that Luna had gotten her fangs from the wolves she had grown up with. Though he doesn’t exactly know where she got the real teeth she wore from. There were eyes on them, but as Luna pulled the blade back at the man’s frightened nod. They let it be. Perhaps skirmishes were normal here. 

Harry took Luna by the arm over towards the tavern that they could least get some food. The scary face Luna had seconds ago was gone, replaced with a vibrant smile. “This town is quite interesting is it not.” 

Hermine just nodded, obviously in shock from Luna’s rather quick transformation. 

They sat in the far back of the tavern. Word traveled quickly and a few people were drawn in to look at Luna as she sat on one of the high stools. 

“Are you really 100 years old?” Hermione squinted over her drink. Harry had a hard time buying it too. Luna didn’t look any older than they did. Her pretty eyes dropped to the table and the mead that she was holding. They wouldn’t drink a lot, but the alcohol was safer than the water. 

“I do not age as you do. Even if my father was mortal, I am not.” Luna sighed. “Remus has been with me for a decade and I have learned much from him and his people. I told you that I had been alone a long time. I have had plenty of time to explore the ruins, learn things, dwell on the loss of my people. The first wave of the church happened when I was born. The second that might have been led by that man, Dumbledore, did not happen till decades later. When there were few of us left. My mother and the others were killed then. I was out hunting, she touched the pelt that she wore, pulling it closer to herself. Pulling down the elaborate hood to cover her face, the fluffy white fox-like head, seemed to be a comfort for her to crawl inside of. 

“You’re not alone anymore.” Harry reminded her. Wet eyes looked at him, and she laughed the gray sky in her eyes seemed to darken like a storm. 

“That's right.” Hermione piped up. “We’re in this mess together.” 

Luna laughed, blinking her long lashes and the single tear rolled down her cheek. “It means so much to hear it. It is good to have friends.” 

And Harry could not agree more. 

~/*\~ 

The wind changes. Nagini sniffs the air and he pulls his hood down so that he can get a feeling for the area. The small town outside of the Withered Woods was rather suspicious of anyone that was making their way through. They had defenses built around the town for that very reason, and they were rude, harsh, and disgusting people that had nowhere else to go. Not that he cared. Many people like him had been pushed this way, people, best unseen by society. Even if he carried Noble blood in his veins. He was not the one that they wanted, they had tried to kill him. So he knows. Oh, how he knows. 

He clenches his fist, ducking down into the brush. The person that had created those monsters might be in town. Nagini rubs against his cheek. Her wild green eyes glow in the growing dark. The clouds are starting to darken and he knows what the hour coming will bring. 

_**Tom.**_

__“I know.” He whispers. “You go over first. Scout it out for me.” He holds her up and she jumps down onto the post and shimmies over._ _

__~/*\~_ _

__Luna climbs out onto the roof of the inn. They are on the second floor so it is not a very difficult feat to accomplish. The tiles do not feel right under her feet. They are not her roots, they are far from the soil. They are stained with soot. The burning of the coal to keep the little industry left running. The town smells of blood, dark magic, and ill intentions. She doesn’t wish to stay here. But she knows that this is where the wind has blown her, where she shall start to grow. She is not sure how she will bloom._ _

__She traces the necklace that she wears fondly. These teeth showed that she had come of age a long time ago that she had proved herself to the spirits, be defending what was hers. By taking a life to save others, and using the bones as should be used. Brother to the fates were the animals that roamed the forest, sisters the plants that towered overall and provided the nutrients for other life. And of course, Death was part of the cycle. The Wither Woods was sick, she could feel it through the soles of her feet, each step felt like sharp jagged rocks to the senses, no bird chatter, no sounds life usually gave. The trees were bent in odd shapes. She doesn’t even want to know the evils that have been committed on that ground._ _

__Her future is muddled in with others, each thread is tangled, buried under the surface. She has met but two people in this town, spoken to them truly and she has seen where their treads go, just by the act of them touching her._ _

__She lets out a deep breath, her blue eyes lightening in the dark allowing her to see farther than those that are tucked nicely in their beds. A storm was coming, it was unclear just who would survive it. She took the branch she had brought in with her as an oversized walking stick and started to shave off some of the bark. She needed something longer than her daggers would allow. Something throwable was preferable._ _

__~/*\~_ _

__It rains the entire day. Hermione takes the opportunity to practice drying spells, Luna to sharpen her stick, and Harry finds himself pouring over the maps. Plotting what would be a good route to take to after this stop. He watches from the window those that are moving around out in the storm. There are very few, the shopkeepers have taken all their goods inside._ _

__He watches a black cat, jumping down under one of the awnings. It looks around itself and then they are suddenly fixed on him. The eyes are far too intelligent. He stares at it, and it stares back. The lightning flashed and the cat’s face distorted it almost looked like it was being devoured by shadows. It moved towards the alley where a cloaked figure picked it up._ _

__He narrowed his eyes trying to make out more detail, but the figure was quickly moving away. It didn’t sit right with him. He waited a few minutes, but the shadows reminded him far too much of his encounter with Death and the God that it supposedly embodied._ _

__He threw his gear on. Hermione raised an eyebrow and Luna only nodded. “Do what you need to Harry.” She said silkily. “Destiny is calling.”_ _

__He takes her cryptic words to mean that he is going to need his bow and arrow. He sets out into the street. The air is cold, damp, and the rain is coming down slower than before. Large puddles are filled over in the old street. The gutters are full and running like a small stream._ _

__His eyes adjust to the growing darkness. He keeps his hands ready on his bow and trusts himself to be able to draw an arrow back in time. He was always better with that than a knife, though he has never used an arrow on a person before. The shops are closing and the lights are fading. Darkness lines all the alleys, there is no sign of the person in the robe and no sign of a cat. There is faint noise of the night, calling guardsmen and the thunk of rain slamming into rooftops as the rainfall picks up again._ _

__The guards are readying themselves against the gate and some on the higher points. He remembers Luna’s warning about nights of the full moon and feels his scar prickle a warning._ _

__“Come to help, adventurer?” A guard calls him._ _

__Harry despite himself nods, it gives him an excuse to wander the streets with his weapon in hand._ _

__The man looks relieved. “Always good to have another person for when they come.”_ _

__“What is it exactly that comes,” Harry asks._ _

__“The undead.” The man says with no humor in his voice. And so Harry has no choice but to believe him. “There is some sort of cult in these woods, they have defiled the once rich soil. Reanimated animals, humans, you name it.”_ _

__“And their purpose for attacking.” Harry moved up to the platform that had a few other archers._ _

__“Who knows.” A younger boy than him holding a spear and his dirty blond hair reminds him of a wet mop. “They just try to take more people or animals each time. That men in the mask are constantly stealing more than just that. It's because of them that we have been relying so much on shipments.”_ _

__“You shouldn't even be out her kid.” One of the armored men looks down at the scrawny boy that might have been 10 at most. He has a dirty beard and Harry recognizes him as the man that let them into town. He is scared something awful by his eye and Harry thinks that the blue glass object might be_ _

__“Those guys took my little brother” The boy hisses. “I have every right to try and help.”_ _

__“You might join him, Colin.” The guard that had motioned Harry over shakes his head._ _

__The little boy’s face heats up to the tips of his ears. “He is not much older than I am.” He points out._ _

__“He also came in with the wolf girl and a young priestess. He has probably seen much more battle than you kid.”_ _

__Harry really did not feel like objecting to that. His scar gave a very painful throb and he managed to draw his bow just in time to fire one of his arrows at a clawed hand that was reaching over the fence. There was a high scratch and the bear, which was rotting, stuck its head over the barrier._ _

__They all scramble to try and stop it, as a few larger winged creatures swoop down from high above. They had been hidden by the thicker clouds. Harry draws another arrow, firing up and catching one in its gaping mouth. It falls to the ground like a brick smashing into the cart below. The extra weapons scatter across the ground. There are more, swooping low, and the pikemen put theirs up to defend themselves._ _

__Harry loads his bow again and misses as a bat dives too close to his head. The Bear is making its way up. Its massive paw is impaled on the spiked top of the wall, but it doesn’t seem to care. There is a blur of movement and something very fast and white slams into the bear's head sending it toppling backward out of the stem of its next bugs start to pour out. There she rolls away and stands breathing heavily._ _

__“Not exactly how I thought destiny would find you.” Luna is gripping that sharpened stick that he had seen her with before. She twirls it around herself like a carnival dancer._ _

__“You just had to help.” Hermione starts, her staff shooting a small spark of fire upward like a flare blinding one of the bat creatures. “Not that I am complaining. I think it is good to help against such dark forces.”_ _

__~/*\~_ _

__It turns to chaos quickly, very quickly. The place is burning from oil lamps and there is endless screaming. It is a raid unlike any that the guards have ever seen. They were unprepared for the dark to overtake them. The masked figures had started to make their way through the gates that were in ruin. It was obvious that they were looking for something more than bodies and goods._ _

__Harry has no idea what they are looking for but he knows that it will only spell doom for this town. The more death there is the more that comes back to fight. Hermione is separated from him and Luna as larger beasts make it over the walls._ _

__“Luna, go after Hermione, she is going to need your help!” Harry calls to the Fate that is slashing her way through enemies. But even someone seemingly skilled as Luna was tiring, and Harry was running out of arrows. There had to be a new plan and fast._ _

__~/*\~_ _

__

__She is not cut out for this. Her wet hair is clinging to her face and is in her eyes making it hard to see._ _

__She was a scribe, a young but decently respected one. She is huffing and her arm is bleeding. Her hands are rubbed raw from holding so hard to her staff and swinging it. She ducks down one of the allies one of the dog-sized rat things dares to follow and she swings with all her might her staff lighting the top of it and hits it again and again till it is laying at her feet._ _

__She had ended up using her beloved staff to bash its brains out._ _

__What would Mcgunagall say?_ _

__Her tears glisten as she closes her eyes tightly._ _

__Goddess help her. She has always wanted to do good. She has always strived for it. This is not exactly how she envisioned it. Luna jumps down from the rooftop. Her hood falling with the movement, she crouches next to her. And Hermione is never more glad to have someone at her side to watch her back as she catches her breath._ _

__“The day will come soon.” The blue eyes meet hers._ _

__“And then what?” Hermione pants._ _

__“They stop coming,” Luna said as if it was common knowledge._ _

__She could not have known that but Hermione wants to believe in that statement. She will trust it because it's better than the alternative._ _

__“Oh thank Goddess.” Hermione takes a deep breath. She has held her own so far but she is not sure how long she can keep pouring her magical core into the few spells that she knows. The good thing is the undead seem to burn well, and she doesn’t need very powerful lights to blind them._ _

__“You’re interesting.” A voice comes from the shadows near them, a person in a glittering skull mask. Hermione's eyes widened; she knew that they were in the area, but it was another thing to see one up close._ _

__A Death Eater._ _

__“I haven’t killed one of your kind in a while.” The voice is high pitched and giggling. The woman holds up a staff that radiates shadows. Hermione raises her wooden one._ _

__“Aww, the little baby birdie wants to play.” The shadows open up and small snakes of shadow rushed forwards. “I can’t wait to see the old man’s face when I bring him your head.”_ _

__She twists and the shadows pass by her slicing through the boxes stacked by the back door to the small shop. Luna is caught by one of them and her cheek instantly is covered with blood. The fate growls and rushes forward using the wall to propel herself forward._ _

__“Nice try.” The woman walks backward slowly dodging each dagger strike that Luna makes in vigorous jabs and thrusts. “But I am a little too versed in battle to fall to one of you.”_ _

__The Death Eater blocks the last strike with her staff and the ground lights in a purple-green hue, the ground cracks, and the magical energy explodes forward sending Luna flying backward into the broken crates. Her pretty daggers clattering to the ground as her head bounced._ _

__Hermione willed her feet to move, her magic forward, and the small light barrier she made breaks under the pressure of the shadows trying to reach them to tear them apart._ _

__‘Goddess hear me.’ Hermione begs._ _

__The shadows rip past her and another one of her poorly made shields and the shadows slide deep into her forearm._ _

__“Please” She squeezes her eyes shut. She sinks nearly to her knees from the pain and magical exhaustion. “I shall never doubt you again.”_ _

__She feels like she is about to pass out._ _

__“I will do whatever it is you ask of me. Just please give me strength to save Luna.” A large bird of flame erupts from her staff. Its warm light engulfs her, it feels like her bones are being crushed together, and her eardrums are rupturing with the loudness of the crack of hot air around her. She tumbled to the ground by the ocean. She feels the sand under her head and sees Luna’s hood moments before succumbing to the darkness._ _

__~/*\~_ _

__

__Harry drags Colin into one of the houses. He needs cover if he is going to try and treat the wound the other has. He would not let someone so young die. He puts his back to the wall and leans Colin in the corner furthest from the door. He hears the shuffling of feet. He turns and finds a knife to his throat. He raises his head defiantly and a boy slightly older than him is staring back at him. They stare at each other and Harry’s forehead burns. Yet he dares no outlook away from the brown that is looking at him. The knife doesn’t shake or lower._ _

__“Find somewhere else. I was here first.”_ _

__There is a very low hiss and Harry lowers his gaze to see the cat that he had seen earlier the one he felt drawn to. The black cat is nearly invisible in the dark of the house, only the green of its eyes are viable in the small amount of moonlight that peaks through the smashed window._ _

__“There is nowhere else safe at the moment and this boy needs help,” Harry replies definitely._ _

__The boy sneers at him. “That boy is already dead. The rot will get him and he will be just like those other walking abominations.”_ _

__“Is the rot the black in his vains ?” Harry asks. Watching as the poor child’s skin takes an even more sickly gray tone._ _

__“Don’t ask stupid questions of course it is.” The stranger narrows his eyes._ _

__“Help me treat him,” Harry demands._ _

__The teen laughs, “I have a knife at your throat and you really have the audacity to worry about him.”_ _

__Harry repeats the demand. “If you were going to slit my throat, you would have done so already. So help me.”_ _

__The stranger lowers the blade. “And what would be in it for me to heal him? What your asking isn’t just a wave of the hand. It will be painful to do, and timely.”_ _

__“He is dying.” Harry could not believe this person, he really would sit there and be fine with another person dying in front of him._ _

__The cat hisses again and this time Harry can almost hear laughter from it._ _

__“What would you want in exchange?” Harry narrows his eyes, swallowing down his anger and keeping his fists to himself._ _

__The stranger tilts his head and hums. “I doubt that you have anything worthy of me or my talents. But you came in with the priestess didn’t you? I would like something from her.”_ _

__“And that is?” Harry feels a chill go up his spine._ _

__“Now that would be telling. Do we have a deal?” The stranger smirks._ _

__Harry hesitates the last time that he made a deal it did not go so well for him. Colin coughs near him and more blood leaks out his mouth. The black moves further up._ _

__“He really doesn’t look so good.” The teen pushes the boy's leg slightly with his boot._ _

__“Just save him.” Harry sighs. “I will get Hermione to help you after you uphold your end of the deal.”_ _

__The dark eyes sparkle. “Pleasure to do business with you then.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Feedback, Questions, and Kudos are always welcome and appreciated :)


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